


Deep in the Heart

by deathsteel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Actual Places, Alcohol, Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Asexual Character, Austin - Freeform, Blow Jobs, Bookstores, Bottom Dean, Captain America: The Winter Soldier Spoilers, Charlie and Dor are kinda assholes, Drinking, Everyone is oblivious and everything hurts, F/F, F/M, Genderfluid Character, Literary References, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, Sam and Gabe are kinky little shits, Shy Dean, Smoking, Texas, Texting, Trans Character, UST, Wanderlust, but loveable assholes, comic books are important, get ready for that secondhand embarrassment, gratuitous cursing, music festivals, music suggestions that will be ignored, nerd!dean, punk!Castiel, use of the c-word, we're all so anxious it hurts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 21:57:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 141,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathsteel/pseuds/deathsteel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Smith is bad at stepping outside of his comfort zone, at being spontaneous, at living. But he learns more at college than he expected when he repeatedly crosses paths with a mysterious, blue-eyed restless punk named Castiel. Set against a backdrop of bookstores and bars, concerts and cappuccinos, Dean learns that sometimes living is as much about the paths we don't decide to take as the ones we do. He learns that the ultimate question isn't 'How do you find love?' because sometimes it finds you, but 'How do you make love stay?'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. a sort of love story

**Author's Note:**

> “In the last quarter of the twentieth century, at a time when Western civilization was declining too rapidly for comfort and yet too slowly to be very exciting, much of the world sat on the edge of an increasingly expensive theater seat, waiting – with various combinations of dread, hope, and ennui – for something momentous to occur.” -Tom Robbins, _Still Life with Woodpecker_

No one would ever call Dean Smith impulsive.

He had never done anything spontaneous or that he hadn't planned out precisely down to the last minute detail, analyzing all of the possible outcomes for things that could possibly go wrong causing whatever he was working on to backfire and blow up in his face. So that's probably why it had come as such a big surprise to everyone that knew him that he decided to go to college in Texas, instead of staying in South Dakota near his family and his friends and everything that he already knew was comfortable and safe and predictable.

Frankly, it surprised him too.

University of Texas was his back-up, back-up school; the one he had decided he would only go to if the world was ending or the stars aligned to force him in that direction. Neither one of those things happened, but it _was_ the first acceptance letter that he got in the mail. And after getting 'FAG' carved into the side of his car for the millionth time by the asshole jocks at school who were too scared to give him wedgies or push him into lockers anymore now that puberty had helped him fill out with little to no effort on his part besides LARPing on the weekends with his friends, Ed and Harry who were heading off to opposite coats and Ivy League schools (accepted early admission, of freaking course), getting as far away from Sioux Falls just seemed overwhelmingly appealing.

Jo was the crazy one, the rebel, the one who was steadily giving his dad, Bob, grey hairs at every turn when she snuck out of the house just to get brought home by the sheriff every other weekend and made their mom, Ellen, rant about teen pregnancy to the both of them almost every night over dinner even though Dean had told them multiple times that it was a non-issue as far as he was concerned. She still bought him condoms and dragged Jo to get birth control and asked them both when they were going to cut her some damn slack and bring home a nice boy for once.

His first year in Austin, she asked after the status of his love life every time that she called; saying that it probably wouldn't be that hard for him to meet a real gentleman down there in the Lone Star State. She seemed to be under the impression that all the men in Texas were John Wayne and Clint Eastwood; not the uber-Republican, homophobic bros that he usually sat behind in class who had the dumbest answers to the simplest questions and made him want to die because the smartest conversations he had every week were with the old guys who worked at the comic book store.

So far all of the men he had met were just older versions of the boys he went to high school with, except now they had southern accents. Dean figured if he kept playing the odds though, eventually he would find a guy that would get his sense of humor and how intense he got about Star Wars and would really and truly appreciate his comic book and record collections.

But he didn't meet a guy like that until he had to take the computer course that the college required of everyone no matter what their major was and his name was Sam Wesson. Unfortunately, going on a date with the lanky, handsome, long-haired biochemistry major was weirdly like going on a date with his brother, if he had a brother and it didn't lead to anything more than a bromancy hug at the end and acquiring a roommate who picked up after himself once Dean decided that the dorms were unlivable as long as they didn't have central air conditioning.

They found a house in central Austin, situated up a really steep hill behind a record store called Cheapo's that if nothing else Dean could always find some serious eye candy in when he was killing time between classes or looking for imported singles for the bands that he liked. Ozma, Mineral, Sunny Day Real Estate, Braid, The Promise Ring, mostly late-90s emo stuff when emo still meant cardigans and brown corduroys and glasses that really were prescription and not dark eyeliner, swoopy lazy-eye inducing hair styles, and cutting yourself.

Not that Dean could begrudge a guy for looking good in eyeliner; because since moving to one of the biggest music capitals in the country he saw his fair share of dudes in makeup and he could admit that it was hella attractive on boys with the right eyes. But something about appropriating the genre title for something that used to mean Weezer didn't exactly sit well with him. Sam said it was all relative and just listened to whatever happened to catch his ear, introducing Dean to older stuff like The Replacements and Husker Du that he could also get behind even if their louder, more rambunctious descendents could grate on his nerves just a little.

Sophomore year was the year that Dean got a job at Book People, right down the road from the house that he and Sam were sharing with a peppy redheaded girl named Charlie who really, pretty much only got Dean the job in the first place to shut him up, because she was tired of him always begging her to let him use her discount to buy Kurt Vonnegut books that he already had four copies of. It was also the year that he finally admitted that punk boys were becoming a thing that he thought about more than just in passing.

The first time that he saw him, he was running late to work. Speeding on Sam's bike down the hill past Cheapo's so that he could cut across Lamar and jet down to the book store as quickly as possible before he got stuck working on inventory or shut away in the back room to receive new books by himself with that weirdo Crowley who always always hit on him. It was spring break and for most of the students that didn't hail from Texas, that meant going home for the week or telling your parents you were studying and really going to Port Aransas or Galveston to party and drink and become the subject of incriminating and embarrassing Facebook photos.

But for Dean, it meant working since spring break in Austin usually happened to sync up with the week of South By Southwest that was dedicated to music. People from all over the world flooded into the Texas capital to listen to bands that only played in the United States once or twice a year, forced to sweat out all of the alcohol that they imbibed in the mid-March swelter that started early in the south. Sam was working too and Dean didn't even envy his friend for working at a bar like he had since the previous fall when his roommate first got the job because he got to hang out in an air-conditioned bookstore all day instead of dealing with sweaty, obnoxious drunks and their terrible taste in music.

Book People was a hub for festival goers looking to escape the oppressive Texas heat as well as kill time between sets going on around town and both Dean and Charlie were required to work. It wasn't a big deal for his roommate, since she worked in the cafe part of the store, whipping up lattes and smoothies with the complicated equipment that Dean was too scared to touch, but she had stayed the night at her girlfriend's apartment in South Austin the night before and it was just too much of a hassle to try to fight the traffic in the Impala if it was just him going to the store. And it would have just made him later than he already was anyway, so he stole Sam's bike, leaving his friend to catch up on sleep after the other man shut down the bar he worked at the night before which marked the big kickoff of the music festival on Sixth street where all the major music venues in Austin lived.

It was probably better anyway that he was on the bike, because when Dean did see the lanky dark-haired punk boy leaning against the wall of Cheapo's that faced his street (propped up underneath his favorite graffiti of Audrey Tatou's _Amelie_ that graced the wall) Dean forgot to pedal and almost ran right into one of the cars that was waiting at the light to merge onto the busier cross street of Lamar Boulevard. The stranger was smoking a cigarette and surveying the early morning traffic with an air of disinterested amusement, his lip ring glinting in the sunlight that was struggling to make it through the cloudy mid-March sky.

Dean wanted to stop and gawk just a bit because there where hot guys and then there was this guy, who seemed aloof and dangerous and intriguing in a way that worked for him in all of the right ways, but his name tag was looped around his neck, reminding him of work. And the right leg of his brown pants was rolled up his calf so that it didn't get caught in the chain of Sam's bike and there was no way that someone that good-looking would want to talk to him with his nerdy glasses and his short sleeve plaid button down shirt that Charlie said made him look like an extra from _Revenge of the Nerds._ No way in hell.

The other guy was just so effortlessly handsome in his threadbare black cutoff shorts that had frayed edges and hugged him tightly enough to show off the muscles of his thighs. He had on dirty well-worn Converse that would make Dean's mom hyperventilate if she saw them laying around the house somewhere and his dingy white Ramones t-shirt faded seamlessly into the white-washed walls of Dean's favorite record store that the other man was leaning against. Dean especially appreciated the messy mop of dark hair that made the object of his appreciation look like he had just crawled out of bed or hadn't bothered sleeping at all if the dark circles under his eyes were anything to go by.

Sam would tell him to stop and talk to the guy and give him his number and be confident, but that wasn't Dean. He had never been the kind of person to approach another guy, mostly because if he misjudged and they were straight it could lead to something far worse than a wedgie or getting his car keyed. Luckily the last time his gaydar had completely and utterly failed him had been right after starting at the bookstore with his coworker Aaron who shrugged the whole thing off as a compliment, but it had been embarrassing enough that Dean had decided to let other men approach him if they were interested.

Jo told him he was a cock tease and he didn't know when his sixteen year old sister had started talking to him like that, Charlie said that he was shy, and Dean, well he wasn't sure exactly what it was that made him so afraid to put himself out there, but he was late to work and he didn't have enough time to stop anyway so he swerved around the cars on North Larmar and made it to Book People in enough time to call dibs on working the downstairs reference desk instead of the one upstairs near the children and young adult sections. Becky could do it all day, but Dean could really only feign interest in angsty teen vampire books and Dr. Seuss for so long before he started getting cranky.

* * *

The second time he saw him he did talk to him. But not really talk, just like...provide customer service?

It was his job after all, well not _his_ job, but Charlie's. And really Dean was lucky to have seen the guy at all again since he was stuck in the backroom on the last day of SXSW, fixing some inventory mess that Crowley just couldn't possibly handle all by himself. Not that he hadn't been looking for him; because he had, but not consciously. Finding little things in other people who asked for his help with finding a book or where the bathroom was because they couldn't understand why there wasn't one downstairs in the bookstore also, he was going to be happy when SXSW was over and he didn't have to deal with tourists anymore who thought he was just a hipster townie that they could treat like crap. It was even worse than working in retail on Christmas.

Charlie's girlfriend, Dorothy, had come in, surprising the redhead with backstage passes to see La Roux where the songstress was performing at Auditorium Shores Stage, opening for the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and The Strokes in the grand culmination of the weeklong festival. His roommate had ducked into the backroom, begging him to cover the cafe for the last hour of his shift so that she could leave early to go home and change out of her milk and syrup spattered t-shirt before the show. He had only agreed to get away from Crowley, telling Charlie that she owed him big time and earning a promise of free drinks the next time he went into Red 7 where the other girl's partner tended bar on the weekends.

He made her show him three times how to use the complicated milk frother that just fogged up his glasses more than anything else before he let her leave, but Dean still prayed that no one would order a latte because smoothies he could make, but espresso drinks were like a completely different language. Luckily almost everyone wanted cold drinks, iced coffee which was just pouring and adding syrup and so easy that anyone could do it or sodas that he just had to pull out of the cold case and ring up before handing them over.

Dean read a battered copy of _Still Life with Woodpecker_ by Tom Robbins, recommended to him by his coworker Lisa when she had heard him grousing about Charlie's red-hair fucking up pretty much every drain in their house to Aaron who had said he had a similar problem with his girlfriend that he lived with. She said the book pretty effectively solved the problem of redheads and was similar to Vonnegut which she knew he liked because practically every book that Dean wrote a recommendation for was by his favorite author and everyone had learned pretty quickly after he started to not touch the display that was dedicated to the man like a shrine at the end of the fiction section downstairs.

He was biting on his lip as he read, a habit that had earned him the derision of more than one boy who's attention he had caught, but hell it was better than biting his fingernails which he used to do when he was a kid until they were bloody and tender. When he was freaking out over the fact that the superheroes in his comic books always seemed to kiss the girls they rescued and never the sidekicks that were always there for them. In junior high he ate instead of biting his nails and that led to more beatings for being the fat, gay kid then he could ever possibly count on both hands, turning him into the introvert that he was today and making him sigh like a girl while he read the unlikely love-story that the author had written his book around.

' _When two people meet and fall in love, there's a sudden rush of magic. Magic is just naturally present then.'_

Dean understood, without understanding because he had never experienced anything like that before with another person. Sam didn't do the monogamous thing and it seemed to work for him, but it just left Dean with a bad taste in his mouth and a sour ball of guilt in his stomach when he would get home from another failed date, crawl into his lonely bed and try to block out the thought that he would die without ever having what his parents had together. Twenty-year olds shouldn't be so fatalistic and he knew that, but Dean had always been too cautious and careful for his own good.

"I think it looks good," A female voice said in front of him causing Dean to look up from his book to see if she was a customer that he needed to help. He prayed she just wanted black coffee. "You should tattoo your head or something. Once your hair grows back no one will see it, it'll be like your shameful little secret."

The voice belonged to a short brunette woman who had her curly, brown hair swept up in a ponytail that complimented the straight bangs she had running across her forehead and revealed the intricate, thorn covered, dark blue rose she had tattooed on her neck. She was wearing grey and black leopard print shorts with a plain white tank top and a black leather vest. Her legs were pale, sporting bruises that ranged in color from dark purple to sickly green all along her shins right down to her little black flats that had ornamental silver skulls and crossbones on them.

She had more tattoos, ones that trailed down her arms of old movie monsters (Dean could pick out the bride of Frankenstein and Dracula and one that looked like that guy from Evil Dead with the chain saw hand) and more on her thigh of a really angry looking unicorn surrounded by rainbows and clouds with blood dripping from its horn. The girl also had a septum piercing, which Dean had always admired, but been too chicken to get even when he had gone with Charlie and her girlfriend to get a portrait tattoo of the other woman's little black terrier that had just passed away on her bicep next to the one she already had of her dad. Charlie had gotten her nose pierced then; just a little stud that she had only agreed to get if Dean got something too, needless to say his face still had the exact amount of holes it was supposed to have and no more.

"My head feels cold," the man she was with grumbled, tossing down a patch covered black backpack onto one of the little cafe tables that Dean was supposed to be babysitting for his roommate before spinning around to face the first-time barista. He ran a hand abortedly over the sides of his shorn head, where he was probably used to hair being before sighing and crossing his arms tightly over his chest instead. "Next time I make a bet with my brother about anything, remind of what a dick he is."

Dean choked for a second on nothing, probably his own stupid tongue or something because even though he had (but hadn't) been looking for the boy that he had spotted outside of Cheapo's earlier in the week, the last thing he had expected was to see him in his bookstore. In retrospect, the assumption was pretty ridiculous, Book People was practically the biggest bookstore in Austin and it was right across the street from the most well-known record store in the city, Waterloo's; people came into the store just to say that they had been there, regardless of whether or not there was an author doing a signing that day.

The other boy looked even better up close, standing in the brightly lit bookstore with the rows of magazines and people and musicians creating the perfect backdrop behind him that all just faded into an inane, fuzzy nothingness for Dean as he struggled to compose himself so that he wouldn't look like a spaz. He could see the color of his eyes now, blue that was still rimmed by dark circles that looked more like smudged, slept in eyeliner than the telltale signs of a night spent sleepless like he had originally thought. His hair had been massacred though, shaved down short on the sides until it was barely stubble and leaving the middle a hastily, styled drooping mohawk that still looked long enough for someone to get a pretty decent grip on if they were lucky enough to get to kiss the stranger's full chapped lips.

"I just live with him, Clarence. You're the one who had to grow up with the guy, here let me get you a drink or something to make it up to you," The girl said, rifling out an ornate looking cigarette case from her back pocket and extracting a folded twenty from behind the neat row of rolled tobacco tubes.

"You've been buying my drinks all week, Meg." The other man muttered, shoving his hands deeply into the pocket of his tight, dark washed denim shorts; once again cutoffs that were held up by a silver studded leather belt that hung low on his hips. He had on his Converse again, along with a faded black Alkaline Trio shirt that had a skeleton couple holding hands screen printed onto it in crackled white and red ink. "You've got to stop. I can't pay you back or anything."

It took everything Dean had not to groan at the abashed look that was on the other man's face as he scuffed the toes of his dirty sneakers together and toyed with his lip ring while the other girl waved off his statement and moved closer to the register so she could order. Clarence, what an old fashioned name for a guy like that; it was like Seymour or Oscar, something that grandfathers were named and it didn't fit the other man at all. Dean decided he was going to call him 'blue eyes', smirking at his own Rat Pack reference and ignoring the part of his mind that was screaming at him that he was a stalker and creepy and the guy was probably straight anyway so he should not be crushing on him.

"I've already told you how you can return the favor," The woman flirted, winking at the other man and causing him to blush a light pink that stood out against his stubbled, pale cheeks before she spun back around to face Dean; the smile that she had worn for the other man immediately dropping off of her face. "I need a double soy latte with hazelnut and whatever my friend wants."

Dean started cursing her in his head the minute she said 'double' because unless it was just espresso, which it never fucking was, that mean that he was going to have to steam milk for her stupid, uppity drink. Why couldn't people just order coffee anymore? He just drank black coffee because caffeine was caffeine was caffeine, it didn't have to be fancy.

"I'll just have a large iced coffee, black," The other man muttered, side-eyeing the woman who had moved back to wrap and arm around his waist, which just set Dean's teeth more on edge as he nodded and tossed his glasses agitatedly down next to the register before moving towards the milk frother that was possessed by satan and hated him. "And uh...I like your shirt by the way."

Dean squinted down at the worn, green Jets to Brazil shirt that he was wearing, mostly because he was excited that Blake Schwarzenbach's new band, Forgetters was wrapping up their weekend in town by playing at the bar that Sam worked at so he pretty much was guaranteed in the door even without having bought a ticket or wristband for the show, and shrugged. The shirt was older than Jo was probably and he had bought it on eBay back in high school after discovering the band through Pandora.

No one in his hometown listened to music like the band made, honest and raw and emotional in all the ways that Dean was scared of being around the hyper-masculine boys he went to school with. Through music he had learned that he wasn't the only boy with too many confusing feelings out walking around in the world and it had helped him make it through the slurs and the whispers that all of his classmates indulged in behind his back.

He wanted to speak, to thank the other man for the compliment and ask him about what kind of music he liked. Alkaline Trio were a little on the morbid side for his taste, but they weren't super loud and you could understand the lyrics which was an improvement on some of the other more main-stream punk bands floating around out there these days. But his tongue felt thick in his mouth and it was just a struggle to keep breathing when he saw the other man lean down and give the brunette girl a quick peck on the cheek.

"Thanks, dollface." He muttered to her before winking at Dean and going to sit down at the table they had commandeered with his coffee.

Dean must have been staring at the other man still, admiring the way that his shoulders moved as he walked and noticing the dark ink peeking out on the back of his neck and biceps from underneath his shirt. Clarence looked like the kind of boy who would have tattoos, lots of them and Dean thought it sucked that he was totally hopeless at flirting because even with him showing up here with a girl in tow, he still had the overwhelming urge to card his fingers through what was left of the other man's messy hair and kiss him hard enough that he could taste every cigarette he had smoked for the last week and an indention of the other man's hooped lip ring would be left pressed into his mouth for everyone to see.

He must have been staring because the brunette girl slapped her money down hard on the counter top separating them when Dean exchanged her latte back for his glasses that remained steam and milk free while also bringing the cafe into sharp, harsh focus. Specifically the knowing smirk that she was giving him that made him want to just curl up behind the counter and cry with his face pressed into his book so that no one would see it. Girls like her hand been giving him that smirk all his life so he knew what it meant without her saying it, but that didn't stop her from doing it anyway, spiteful fucking bitch that she was.

"Oh, yea," She said smugly, tilting her head toward where the other man was sitting reading one of the Austin Chronicles that had been left lying on the tables all week since they listed when and where the SXSW shows were happening around town. "I'm totally hitting that tonight."

Dean shrugged again, pushing his glasses up his nose and looking one last time at the punk boy who had caught his eye over a week ago. When Bela showed up to relieve him, reprimanding him for some part on the espresso machine that he had bent or not cleaned properly after using it he wasn't really sure, Dean just grabbed his cardigan and his messenger bag and resolutely told himself to not look back at the guy who was not only out of his league, but didn't even play the same sport that he did. He should've known, all of the boys he liked were always straight. And straight boys will break your heart every single fucking time.


	2. john hughes hangover wonder cure-all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I just want them to know that they didnt break me."  
> -Andie, _Pretty in Pink_

"I just don't understand why you have to make it so complicated," Sam complained to Dean as they waited on the padded benches in the lobby of the South Lamar location of Alamo Drafthouse for their movie to start.

The larger man was nursing a Bloody Mary that he had gotten from the bar, sweet-talking the burly, bearded bartender for his hair of the dog hangover cure that Sam was technically still too young to be drinking. He had gotten Dean some bottled, fruity Lambic beer; something that the other man had said would go good with the crepes that Dean was hell-bent on getting for second breakfast while they watched _Pretty in Pink_ at the movie theatre cum restaurant.

South By Southwest had ended weeks ago and Dean had finally stopped looking for the punk boy that had caught his attention, the one that had been haunting his dreams and had made him find every little flaw that could possibly exist in any guy that gave him more than just a cursory glance because they weren't him. They weren't blue-eyed, shaggy haired Clarence. He had seen the girl though, Peg or whatever her name had been, perusing the cookbook section when he had gone to get an iced tea from Charlie on his break; she had been alone, frowning at vegan cookbooks and while it shouldn't make him feel better that blue eyes wasn't with her, it did just a little.

But Sam had long ago gotten sick of listening to him moon over yet another mysterious, unattainable straight guy and Charlie had stopped paging him over their walkie talkies at work every time she saw a guy with dark hair wearing ripped jeans and a band t-shirt. There were just too many of them and none of them ever turned out to be him. So Dean had told her to give up playing lookout for him, acting like the most enthusiastic wingman ever just so he could stalk some guy who had made an off-handed comment about a shirt for a band that hardly anyone even listened to anymore.

They had gone out, more like Charlie and Sam had dragged Dean out, the night before to celebrate the ending of the semester which Charlie said she was only celebrating because it meant that all of her bandwidth wasn't stolen anymore by her two roommates researching stuff for school. She had a degree already, some associate's degree that she had gotten online somewhere in like two weeks for computer sciencey stuff that confused the hell out of Dean. He was pretty sure she was a hacker on the side, working for Wikileaks or something because there was no way in hell she could afford her swanky desktop setup along with pretty much every game system ever invented on just a Book People barista salary.

Dean had enough trouble just affording his part of the rent and bills half the time, at least the dorms had been covered under his scholarship, but it was just too much like living in a cubicle and he was already going to be doing that for the rest of his life once he finished school anyway, so he didn't see any reason to make himself more miserable than absolutely necessary. This had been the same reasoning that Sam had used on him to guilt him into going to Sherlock's for their pub quiz night; reuniting their team, Trivia Newton John, that was comprised of the three roommates along with Charlie's girlfriend.

Also, Dean was leaving. Going home to South Dakota for a couple of weeks so he could make at least an attempt to be a good influence on Jo, who his dad said was becoming completely out of control in his absence, and see Ed and Harry who were coming back home for the summer too from Yale and Stanford respectively. It was the first time he and all of his old high school buddies would be in town together again since one or more of them had never quite been able to make it home for the holidays like they had originally planned in the past. They had been plotting an epic Dungeons and Dragon tournament over Facebook for the last month and Dean had had gotten Charlie to help him hone up on his dungeon master skills, much to Sam's embarrassment and derision every time the other man brought a guy home to find the two of them talking wizards and enchanted forests and twenty sided dice.

So the celebration had been more like a going away party, but Dean's flight back home wasn't until four and he had every intention of being well and truly smashed before he steeped foot onto the giant metal tube that would either hurtle him back home to his mom and pie and a life that had been safe and predictable, but wasn't nearly as colorfully comfortable as the one he had now in Texas or straight into the ground to his sure and firey death. He fucking hated flying, but his dad had bought the ticket and Dean felt too guilty cashing it in for a bus ticket or gas money for the Impala because he knew exactly how much his dad made in his auto shop. It just seemed like a huge slap in the face to the older man who always wondered where exactly Jo had gotten her stubbornness from.

There, right there dad. That's where she got it from.

But they had lost the pub quiz, which they always did because even though the four of them were all relatively smart and well read and had a little bit of knowledge about a lot of different things, they never took it seriously. Especially Dorothy, who liked to answer all of the history questions with song lyrics by The Smiths if she could manage it. However she had said that lyrics from The Cure were equally amusing, she had a thing for bands whose names started with the word 'the'. THE raincoats, THE clash, THE whatevers...there were a lot of fucking bands that she listened to. Her and Charlie both were constantly making each other lovey little mixtapes, tapes not CDs because it was harder to skip past the songs that way (Dor's explanation when Dean asked) and Dean envied their relationship so much that sometimes it made him sick.

He and Sam had left the pair of them sitting at the breakfast nook, hair sleep rumpled and sex tangled in mismatched Wonder Woman and Super Girl pajamas sets that they had gotten switched around probably without the two girls' realizing it, singing some disgustingly cute little song to each other about how in love they were. It sounded like doo wop almost, but Dean had decided that he needed something sweet and filled with Nutella almost immediately upon waking so he hadn't heard more than Charlie murmer, "Shooby do, I've got a crush on you" and Dor reply with "And na na na, I think I like you" before the world had tilted just a little bit and he had felt like he was going to throw up.

The two boys had beat a hasty retreat to the Impala and rushed to try to catch the brunch-time showing of _Pretty in Pink_ because it was the only thing playing and Sam had a little thing for John Cryer anyway so it all worked out for the best. But Dean couldn't help moping when his old Hey Mercedes tape started playing 'Frowning of a Lifetime' as they sat in the traffic that was flowing sluggishly across the bridge that spanned the Colorado River where stalwart and predictable as ever, people were already tubing and canoeing with their coolers floating along behind them in the water attached by bungee cords.

_Breathing out curls of smoke into the world._  
 _I'm never gonna find you, never will remind you,_  
 _To cover up your breath when you're back up at the desk_

He could only think of smoke curling out of chapped, pink lips and a sliver hoop that sparkled in dim sunlight before Sam had to turn off the tape, punching the buttons on the dashboard until the local college rock station started playing instead so that Dean would stop zoning out long enough to find them a parking spot in the shopping center that the theater was located in.

His roommate had known exactly where his mind was at during the song because it was the same place that his mind had been since spring break and Sam was still irritated that Dean had not taken his advice about the whole thing and gone to every bar in downtown Austin, hunting for the punk boy with the freshly shaven mohawk so that he could jump his bones. To the other man it was just that simple, for Sam it was always that simple.

Dean had gone to Sam's bar instead, convinced that having the lead singer of one of his favorite bands just breathing the same air as him nearby would make him feel better and it had, for a little while. Until the show had ended and he had been left looking down at the main floor from the balcony of the outdoor stage at all the scattered beer cans and cigarette butts and happy couples leaning tipsily on each other as they headed back to their homes and hotel rooms all across his adopted city.

So now he was getting a lecture, again. THE lecture, about how he was young and virile and shouldn't be looking for something serious because no one else their age was right now; about how he should just find a guy or maybe even a few guys that he didn't mind getting down with because you only live once, just be fucking safe about it. It wasn't his first time hearing it and Dean was pretty sure it wouldn't be his last.

"I mean, why don't you just get Grindr or go put a missed connection on Craigslist or something. Find a guy or _your_ guy, I don't fucking care, Dean. Just get laid already," Sam continued, perking up when a bouncy looking blonde girl in a Drafthouse shirt ushered them towards the theater that their movie was playing in. "In the year that we've been living together how many dates have you been on?"

"Two," Dean mumbled, trudging up the auditorium style stairs to a seat that was midway up the theater, picking two in the middle that would provide the perfect view of Molly Ringwald's awkwardness that even outdid Dean's.

"And how many of those led to second dates, no forget that. How many of those led to a goodnight kiss?"

"Zero," he replied snappishly, plopping down in the seat and removing his glasses so that he could clean them before the lighting dimmed and his couldn't see anything. "Y'know not all of us want to be booty calls for the rest of our lives. I wouldn't mind meeting someone, settling do—"

"Adopting some gaybies, living in a house with a white picket fence, and taking someone else's last name like a proper hetero couple?" Sam finished sarcastically, fishing out one of the menus from under the long wooden counter top that served as the table for the row that they were sitting on as the theater continued to fill up around them. "You don't have to conform for the sake of conforming, just because that's what you're used to seeing. If you want to be a hedonist, be a hedonist. Who cares?"

"And if I don't want to be the next Bacchus, what then Sam?" Dean asked, scratching out his order onto one of the little slips of paper that the theater provided and posting it up on the thin metal railing that ran along the outside edge of the counter. "Some people are actually okay with being choosy, it doesn't make them a prude or boring or whatever. It just means that they want it to actually mean something when they have sex with another person, I can remember the name of every single person I've slept with? Can you?"

Sam shrugged, flicking a disinterested eye over the waitress that had stepped up to take their order before he pointed out the eggs Benedict on the menu, pointedly gesturing with his Bloody Mary glass to the woman before turning his attention back to Dean. "I have a book, their names are in it. I know it sounds bad, but it's all very organized and scientific. There's ratings and scales and data; it means something too, just something different then your less fun, sex once a year rule you live by."

"God," Dean groaned watching the images that had been personalized to go with their movie flickering across the screen. It was all old 80s commercials for things like Tab and Reebok pump sneakers interspersed with clips from Alf and Belinda Carlisle music videos. "It has been a year hasn't it? You're like the fucking Bruce Banner of sex with all your data and shit and I'm like..."

"I feel like you're going to be that crazy cat lady off of the Simpsons." Sam finished for him, taking an experimental bite out of the celery stalk in his drink before shrugging and munching on it contemplatively. "Y'know, that one that throws cats at people when they get on her lawn? That's going to be you and all of your cats are going to be named Clarence."

"It's true," he groaned, crossing his arms on the counter top and flopping down onto them dramatically.

The lighting flickered above him, signaling that the movie was about to start, but Dean wasn't even sure if all the feel-good John Hughes movies in the world would be enough to make him feel like he wasn't going to end up being just what Sam said he was going to be, crazy and alone with his face eaten by cats when the coroner finally found him.

"Hey it could be worse," Sam offered, poking Dean hard in the side of the head until he sat back up, straightening his glasses with a disgruntled sounding sigh. "You could be that guy, pornstache."

Dean barked out a laugh when he noticed the man that Sam was surreptitiously pointing out, coming up the stairs and excusing his way along the aisle in front of them with a cell phone pressed to his ear. He was wearing a blue and green paisley pearl-snap shirt unbuttoned over a plain white V-neck, the sleeves were rolled up, revealing an intricate tattoo of a spider right below the curve of his elbow on his forearm. His hair was long enough to rival Sam's, which had reached shoulder length over the last year of him not allowing anyone to touch it, only it was pulled back into a small ponytail and he did indeed have the most ridiculous looking handlebar mustache that could possibly exist.

"No, Baldur and I are not a thing anymore." The man was saying petulantly into his phone, settling into the seat in from of Sam who just rolled his eyes and made a blabbermouth gesture with his hand towards Dean who had to cover his mouth with his own hand to keep from laughing. "Why? Because he thinged someone else in Baton Rouge when he was there for some fucking weirdo woodworking convention or something. Yea...ha ha, Baldur does Baton Rouge, real funny Cas."

Their waitress arrived back with another drink for Sam and a glass of water for Dean, eyeing the man in front of them with an irritated little frown on her face.

"If he doesn't put that away by the time the previews end let me know," she said, hooking a thumb at the guy who was so short that Dean could barely see the top of his head over the chair in front of him, but he could sure as hell hear him talking.

"Speaking of thinging people, when you decide to fuck one of my roommates next time you visit could you just give me a heads up or something?...Because it's awkward Cas, they've been fighting since you fucking hitch-hiked back off to whatever little scene haven you're living in now and Richie told me he can't handle living with her anymore now... He's scared she's going to poison his food, Cas! You have to think of people's feelings before you just do shit like that," the man paused for a second; listening to whatever the other person was saying to him.

Dean hoped that he would be ending his call soon because the lights had officially dimmed and the ominous warning that the theatre liked to play regarding cell phones was coming up soon. Plus Sam was starting to look murderously annoyed and the last time his roommate had gotten that look in his eye, they had both been kicked out of the Slaughter Lane location along with Charlie during a very memorable quote-a-long showing of _The Big Lebowski_.

"Well then you should have told her. It's not my place to tell her that you don't like her like that, you're a grown up and we don't even live in the same state anymore, I can't keep cleaning up your messes. I'm out a roommate n—"

"Excuse me," Sam began politely, ducking underneath their shared table top to reach a hand between the seat so he could tap the man on the shoulder. "The movie is about to start, could you please and I mean this in the politest way possible, shut the fuck up already?"

He knew that Sam was joking, because otherwise he wouldn't have prefaced the curse with an 'excuse me'. His roommate would have just snatched the phone out of the smaller man's hand and refused to give it back until after the movie, probably ending up flirting and getting a number before all was said and done with while Dean watched baffled from the sidelines at how easy it was for Sam to just pick up guys when he always struggled with it so much.

Dean felt like he could visibly see the other man's mustache bristling in irritation, the frown lines that started at his mouth and formed between his eyebrows as his golden eyes flickered dismissively over Sam before he grimaced and turned back around in his seat to continue talking to whoever he was on the phone with.

"No, it's nothing, Cas...Just some bridge troll being an asshole and telling me to shut up, but when has that ever worked for anyone. Well, yea dad maybe...so when are you coming back to visit? I'm asking so that I can make sure that the ice queen is happily ensconced in a relationship of some kind before you do...So she doesn't hit on you anymore, though I know you didn't feel bad about flirting with her when she was paying for all of your shit."

Sam gave Dean a disbelieving look before doing what he had expected him to do in the first place, reaching out one of his gargantuan hands and plucking the phone out of the other man's before fluidly ducking back out from under the counter top and settling himself back into his seat, ignoring the undignified squawk of the man in front of them as he firmly ended the call and the glowing screen dimmed. The larger man slipped it into his pocket of his flannel button down that he was wearing and crossed his arms over his chest, smirking in the dim light of the previews when the mustachioed man jumped up from his seat and spun around to face him.

"What the fuck, man?!" The guy yelled causing heads all over the theatre to turn in their direction just as the warning started playing saying that anyone causing a disturbance would be kicked out of the theater and all complaints should be given directly to the waiters so that they could take care of it. "That's fucking theft, Neanderthal! Give me my phone back before I go and get the manager to turn your ass to grass."

"Hmmm, no." Sam said smugly, nudging Dean in the side who was just trying to do his best not to melt into a puddle of embarrassment in his seat when a literal hoard of people in Drafthouse t-shirts started making their way up the stairs towards them. "Now you can either sit down or I'm sure these people would be happy to see you out. But if I miss one second of Duckie then you and I are going to have to have words in the parking lot."

"Sam, no." Dean hissed softly, grinning sheepishly at the surly looking purple haired waiter who had just redirected the shorter man's attention, pointing towards the stairs with a stern look on his face. A tattooed Asian girl was heading in his and Sam's direction and fuck all Dean had wanted was some crepes, why did Sam always have to make a fucking scene everywhere they went? "I just wanted to eat breakfast, give the guy his phone back."

Sam grumbled unintelligibly beside him, scrubbing a hand through his hair and sighing dramatically when the shorter man stomped out of the movie theater, still protesting and giving the larger man the evilest eye Dean had ever seen with a waiter and waitress flanking him.

"Do you have his phone sir?" The Asian waitress asked softly when she reached them, holding out her hand for the device that Sam had pocketed.

"For fucks sake," Sam cursed, rising to his feet and crawling out of the aisle underneath the countertop so that he could walk along the narrow walkway that had been put in for the waitstaff to use. "I'll give it back, apologize or whatever. But really, who doesn't turn their phone off when they go into a theater?'

Dean shrugged and motioned for Sam to hurry up, the movie was starting and his roommate was definitely going to miss some Duckie screen time already, not that the other man didn't already own every single John Hughes movie on VHS, DVD, Blu-Ray and practically any other format he could possibly get his hands on. The director was to Sam what Vonnegut was to Dean and once his roommate had made the comparison, Dean had stopped poking fun of the other man so much for having literally seven copies of _Some Kind of Wonderful_.

By the time his food had shown up, Nutella freakin' crepes with bananas and berries and all kinds of unhealthy stuff masquerading as healthy and Dean knew that it was his last chance to eat something totally and completely terrible for him before he went back home to the low-carb, low-sodium, low-appetizing meals that his mom made to help keep his dad's cholesterol under control for the next two weeks, Sam still hadn't come back from making his amends with the other theater go-er. He surreptitiously checked his pockets of his jeans to make sure that Sam hadn't stolen his keys and taken off in his car yet again and felt his own cell phone vibrating weakly against his thigh.

He didn't even need to read the message that briefly lit up the screen of his cell phone when he pulled it out of his pocket, because he knew what it said and he knew who it was from because it was far from the first time that Sam had ditched him somewhere in favor of having sex instead. It didn't stop him from being pissed off though, what kind of person did that? Normal college students probably, but it didn't make it less shitty for Sam to do it to him and Charlie and Dorothy pretty much anytime any of them went anywhere with him. Even the fucking grocery store! And those Whole Foods hippie boys were pretty damn flexible according to his roommate, maybe Dean should stop being so surprised that his friends always picked getting laid over hanging out with him.

If he had someone who wanted him then he probably would never even leave his bedroom in the first place either.

Dean scribbled out a note to his and Sam's waitress on one of the little white slips of paper asking her for a to-go box for the other man's eggs Benedict before folding himself up as small as he could in his cushy theater seat and forcing his mind to focus on how ugly Molly Ringwald's dress ended up looking instead of seeing all of the parallels between himself and Iona who was still struggling to find the one and pining for the days when beehives were all the rage, just like Dean pined for the days when people didn't think that being in a relationship was a curse. God, he was such a fucking freak.

* * *

"I'm bringing my roommate, Alan," Ed told Dean via Skype the second night that he was home. "I hope that's not a problem. He doesn't know how to play D&D, but he said he doesn't mind watching and learning. He didn't want to stay in our apartment with the weird Chilean guy that we're subletting to so I said he could come home with me for the summer."

"It's cool with me," Dean replied with a shrug, scratching idly at the stubble that he always neglected when he was at home, mostly because it deterred his mom kissing him on the cheek in public when his face felt like sandpaper. "Is Maggie coming?"

"Yea, is Maggie coming?" Harry added excitedly; causing Dean to snort at how obvious his old friend sounded to everyone but Ed anytime the other man's adopted sister was brought up.

Harry had had a crush on Maggie since sophomore year in high school, when their friend's sister had finally discovered make-up and Star Wars novelizations. Dean could see it, almost. If she were just a bit taller and had more testosterone and less boobs he would be all over that too, but he was pretty sure she liked Harry just as much as he liked her, the whole brother awkwardness was the only thing holding the two of them back.

She had just graduated herself though and was heading off to UCLA in the fall, choosing the west coast college instead of going to her brother's alma mater, which Dean had tried to tell Harry was a good sign, but the other man didn't believe that he was good enough for the super smart, funny girl who had always been on the edges of their circle of friends. High school and getting beat up all of the time had done a real number on the entire trio of boys as far as self-esteem went.

"Yea, I think she said she'd come by after she got off work or whatever," Ed replied, glancing over his shoulder when a body moved behind him on the screen, a hand appearing briefly to clap him hard on the shoulder and jostle him slightly in his seat before wandering off back out of sight. "I'm trying to talk her into bringing pizza with her annnndd...okay, now Dean I really think you're going to like my roommate."

"And why do you think that?" Dean deadpanned, leaning over to move the needle on his old suitcase record player back to the beginning on the new Superchunk album that Jo had gotten him as a surprisingly thoughtful late birthday present that he was pretty sure his mom had guilted her into buying him.

His room had been untouched since the last time he had visited during Christmas break, all the way down to the pair of navy blue Chucks that he had been looking for literally since it had started getting warm enough to wear shorts in Texas, so months. Dean's mom hadn't even made the bed for him, stating that she wasn't his goddamn maid when she picked him up from the airport, asking him whether or not he had a boyfriend yet and what the hell was he eating in the South because he had lost so much weight since December; chattering over the buzzing hangover that he had from the more vodka than orange juice screwdriver that he had chugged out of a thermos as Charlie had driven him to the airport in the Impala because Sam had been nowhere to be found since leaving the movie theater.

It was comforting in a way, to be back in his hometown because he was just as anonymous here in some respects as he was in Texas, but going out to restaurants and bars meant that he always ran into people from high school. People who usually only remembered him for one of two reasons: either they had been one of the countless popular kids who had swirled and bullied him into near oblivion by the time he spent his senior prom holed up with Star Trek in his best friend's basement or they had been one of the hapless, unsuspecting spectators at graduation when Dean had stood up to give his valedictorian speech about how the small high school in Sioux Falls was completely and utterly fucked as long as they allowed sports to have precedence over academics before condemning all of the parents who raised their children to be intolerant jerks who picked on the one openly gay kid to the point where Dean didn't even admit to people where his hometown was anymore.

The stunned silence that had followed his pretty much coming out to the whole town sounded a lot like that scratchy noise that you heard when a record ended on a turntable. His dad had stood up and started a very iconic slow clap while his mom had just buried her face in her hands and Jo had jumped to her feet and shouted "Fuck Yea!" loud enough to drown out the sounds of Ellen's hysterical laughter. Dean had been slightly drunk off of Harry's mom's winecoolers at graduation, but even explaining that to people didn't make them want to hear the speech that he had actually written and then forgotten on his folding chair that he had been sitting on during the graduation ceremony.

"Because Ed thinks he might be gay," Harry explained, frowning disapprovingly at their friend who was frantically shushing the other man through their shared video phone call. "And he wants you to do your mojo on him or whatever, find out for him so that he doesn't have to ask."

"Guys I can't even tell when someone I'm interested in is gay or not," Dean sighed, pulling his glasses off and cleaning them with the edge of his old, worn K Records t-shirt that he had been ecstatic to find stacked on top of his dresser with a bunch of other clothes that Jo had apparently stolen from him since he had moved out. "It's not like I have a little radar or something that just goes off when other dudes who like dudes are around."

"That would be an awesome superpower though," Ed pointed out, glancing back over his shoulder again. "Would really come in handy right about now. Anyway, guys I've got to go. Mom is shouting that dinner is ready and she keeps asking me why I can't be as polite as Alan, dude's making me look bad. D&D tomorrow, same time as always?"

"Same time, same place," Harry piped, saluting Ed before the other man nodded and his portion of the screen went black. The other man let out a thankful sigh and gave Dean an apologizing shrug for their friend's complete lack of tact that Dean had long ago gotten used to. "So you're still flying solo in Texas, huh?"

"Don't worry," Dean replied with a smirk. "I'll probably at least have a boyfriend by the time you and Maggie get your shit together and set a date for the wedding."

"And with that I'm gonna go," the other man said quickly, blushing even in the dim lighting of his own old bedroom turned home office at his parent's house. "And don't sell yourself short, Deano. You're a real catch; you'll get a lawyer or something someday."

"What if I don't want a lawyer?" Dean mumbled not meaning for the other man to hear him, but of course he did. Harry may be oblivious about girls, but the guy had always had like supersonic hearing or something.

"Whatever you want, dude. Lawyer, doctor, fucking folk singer. As long as he makes you happy and treats you right, I don't care. Just don't bring up the whole Maggie thing in front of Ed, you know how he was when she "dated" that boy from space camp when we were kids."

"Yea yea, see you tomorrow." Dean replied, settling back into the rolling chair that he kept at his computer desk with a sigh.

He had just about decided to take Sam's advice and move on. There were plenty of guys his type in Austin; punks boys with green or blue or purple hair. Boys that had lips rings and tattoos and that sinewy hidden muscle thing going on that he apparently really really liked. Maybe all of this was just a phase, the long-awaited rebelliousness that his mother thanked god for passing over Dean when he was doling it out, even though he had apparently given enough to her daughter to make up for it. Maybe he just needed to get it out of his system, like when he had sat down and watched all of Veronica Mars in one weekend, then it would be over and he would know what the big deal was about one night stands that Sam seemed to prefer over real relationships.

Because he was just really tired of being alone and though being lonely was probably something completely different Dean could really only work on fixing one thing at a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, guys! Look, I updated something! Whoa! I'm seriously so sorry for disappearing for so long, but I have the next three days off and I'm going to try (fingers crossed) to do a lot of writing. No Cas in this chapter or maybe like...background Cas, but don't worry he's coming back soon in all of his tattooed, irreverent punk boy glory. Kisses and hugs for all of the support on just the first chapter!


	3. beware the gelatinous cube

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I heroically die every time! I'm the Sean Bean of role playing!"-Harry Spangler after Maggie broke his concentration by wearing a dress to game night.

This was by far the most uncomfortable D&D game of Dean's life and that included one time when Ed thought it would be a good idea to play strip D taking off a piece of clothing anytime someone rolled an odd number. They had been fourteen and while Dean had known that he was gay, no one else did yet so he had just been thankful that Maggie had barged in and declared them all weirdos before running back off to her Barbie dolls or boy bands or whatever it was that twelve year old girls liked. A couple weeks later he came out and it had been a surprise to no one except for maybe Jo who really only stressed about it for like two weeks before her meddling ten year old self had decided that Dean should date her after-school twirling instructor. Who was balding and probably the most closeted man in Sioux Falls.

He had managed to extricate himself from that awkward situation with the help of Ed and Harry, but now that his friends were the cause of all of the awkwardness...Dean was absolutely fucked.

This time Maggie hadn't so much as barged in as she had just tagged along with Ed and his roommate, Alan, to the game, saying that she hadn't actually hadn't had to work after all while smiling shyly at Harry who suddenly hadn't known what to do with his hands. That had been more funny than uncomfortable, but after about twenty minutes of seeing how Alan acted around his friend...Completely ignoring the hopelessly inept flirting that he had directed at the newcomer himself at Jo's insistence that it would be the only way that Dean would be able to tell if the stranger living with his old friend was gay, in favor of smiling confusedly at Ed as they had explained the general rules of how the roleplaying game worked. And well, Dean didn't know about gay, but the guy was definitely head over heels for Edwin Zeddmore.

"Well what do I do?" Ed hissed at him under his breath when Alan went upstairs to grab another can of soda out of the fridge in Harry's parents' kitchen.

"I don't know," Dean shrugged, shuffling through his pages of scenarios that he had made up with Charlie for the game. They were getting off track from playing, had been since everyone showed up and started focusing more on catching up with what each other was doing now than what they had actually gotten together to do in the first place. "Break it to him gently that you don't like dudes? This guy that I work with had a great analogy about cologne and perfume that made me feel like not a complete jackass when I asked him out."

"Okay..." The other man began sounding perplexed before shaking his head and pushing his own glasses back up his nose, causing Dean to unconsciously do the same. "But, I mean. I do like him, he's a good guy. Alan cooks for me all the time, we have the same taste in movies and books, he's really funny. I don't want to lose him, I couldn't imagine my life without him. He's like...my best friend now, sorry dude."

"It's cool," Dean said, waving the other man off and glancing at the basement stairs when he heard the door at the top leading from the kitchen open again. "I mean, it's not like it was just going to be me and you and Harry for the rest of our lives. I'm pretty close to my friends in Texas so I get it, but you not telling Alan how you feel about all of this is just going to make things worse in the long run. What if you want to start seeing someone? Do you realize how hard that would be for him to watch? No, tell him. Do it fast, like pulling off a band-aid and if you're really such good friends then you'll survive this."

"When should I do it?" Ed muttered under his breath, smiling wide when Alan sauntered across the basement and handed him a Mountain Dew, popping the tab on his own can of Coke and taking a sip before he settled down in the chair next to Dean's friend with a bemused smile on his face.

"I got you the last Dew, Eddie," Alan explained, tipping his can at the one in Ed's hand. "I know you like them better than Coke, I can run out and get some more if you want once you guys get knee deep in dungeoning."

Dean watched how the other man leaned close when he said it; knee brushing against his old friend's and swallowed hard to fight against the lump in his throat. "Sooner would probably be better than later."

Ed nodded quickly and Dean could see that the other man was blushing hard under the intensity of Alan's stare before he stammered out that he needed to talk to Alan alone. The other man seemed elated by the suggestion and quickly climbed to his feet, following Ed across the basement behind Dean to the part where Harry's dad kept his model train sets. Dean didn't want to watch this; it would be too painfully familiar to how Aaron had let him down gently and kindly when Dean had asked the very heterosexual Book People employee out for coffee shortly after starting to work there.

He turned back to Maggie and Harry who had surreptitiously been making goo-goo eyes at each other since they had all sat down at the folding card table that the other man had set up in his basement in preparation for their game. Before he and Ed had started talking, Maggie had been telling Harry about her college plans and they had been talking about California in excited whispers; about how much better it was than South Dakota. Dean was pretty sure that anywhere was better than Sioux Falls, but you didn't see him bragging about Texas all over the place.

Then again, he didn't really have anything to brag about. Charlie and Sam were good roommates and great friends, but who wanted to hear him talk about how he hadn't done dishes in six months because Charlie would rather do that than take out the trash and Sam would rather do that than laundry? Dean liked the laundry mat because no one bothered him and he could just put his headphones on and read in a peaceful place that smelled like fluffy, detergenty cotton, but no one wanted to hear about that.

College was when you were supposed to be 'discovering yourself' and Dean had done all his discovering in high school so what was left? Harry (scared of needles biggest wuss he knew, Harry) had gotten a tattoo for christsakes. It was little and looked a bit like a butterfly even though the other man swore up and down it was some super rare endangered moth species that he was studying, but it was more than Dean had to show for his time spent in the most liberal city in Texas. He didn't even have any sexy laundry mat stories, Sam had at least three and Dean could only remember him having done laundry like once.

"Yea that'd be awesome," Maggie was saying to Harry when Dean zoned back in on their conversation, making a concentrated effort to not eavesdrop on what Ed and Alan were talking about even though his heart went out to his friend's roommate, he knew how much being on the receiving end of rejection hurt. The girl blushed across from Dean, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and made a point to lean away from the other man just a bit when she noticed they had an audience. "I mean...I know Stanford is a long drive from L.A., but it would be nice having someone show me around a bit, if it's not a problem for you?"

"Oh God, no," Harry said quickly, putting a hand out to cover the one that Maggie had resting on the table between them. His friend gave the appendage a startled look, like he hadn't meant to do that, but Maggie wasn't pulling away and Dean could physically see the moment when that fact finally clicked for Harry. "For you Mags, no. It wouldn't be a problem at all and like, if you need any help moving or whatever y'know...I can do that too."

"Actually my brother and Alan are supposed to be hel—what the hell is going on over there?" Maggie asked, her voice immediately dropping the shyness that it had held before her gaze had shifted from Harry to where Ed and Alan had been sitting next to Dean, moving to the area behind him where he knew the two men were talking.

Dean glanced over his shoulder to see that Alan and Ed were standing close together, closer than they had been when he had turned around to give them their privacy a moment ago. Ed had one arm crossed over his chest and was rubbing at his mouth with his other hand with an utterly distraught expression on his face; Alan was rubbing the other man soothingly on the arm and talking in low consoling tones that made Dean feel like a complete jerk for how he had taken his own rejected by Aaron. Freaking out like a girl and running away from how embarrassed he felt to the backroom; avoiding his coworker for weeks until the other man's girlfriend had come in under the pretense of looking for a book to tell him that Dean wasn't the first one to make that mistake about Aaron and he probably wouldn't be the last.

"That's what we who are unlucky enough to never find our soul mates sitting next to us in our parent's basement call being 'let down gently'," Dean said hoping it came off as flippantly as he meant for it to while also getting his point across to Maggie and Harry that they weren't fooling anyone. "But it looks like Alan's handling it pretty well."

Maggie's eyes widened across the table and she nodded in a dumbstruck sort of way before grabbing onto the hand that Harry still had covering hers on the table and standing up briskly from her seat; making a beeline for the stairs with the other man barking out a hysterical sounding chuckle as she tugged him along. Dean frowned in confusion at their reaction and turned around again to see that Ed had fisted his hands in the olive green micro-camouflage t-shirt that Alan was wearing, pressing his mouth against the other man's with an expression that looked more surprised than anything else. Alan was smiling softly and happily with his hands frozen on Ed's forearms and shit, Dean would never be lucky enough to get kissed like that ever.

He left them to it, following quickly behind Maggie and Harry while keeping his eyes on his feet when he heard a soft spoken "Wow." come from one of the men behind him, he wasn't sure if it had been Ed or Alan though; he didn't really want to know. Not that he had ever felt that way about Ed and just...gross, it would be just like going on a date with Sam all over again. He knew that sometimes you just liked who you liked, no matter what sex they were; Dorothy was bisexual and had taken it upon herself to introduce Dean, when he had first moved to Texas ,to the wide and scary world of sexuality that was much much more than just the labels of gay or straight that he was used to. Who knew the south was so open-minded?

Fuck, who knew that Ed was so open-minded?

* * *

" _So how's the sticks roomie?"_ Charlie drawled through the phone to him a couple of days later, when she had woken him up wanting to know if she could borrow his car to drive Dorothy to Ikea, apparently the other girl needed yet another bookshelf; he suspected his roommate's literary obsessions were taking over her girlfriend's small one-bedroom apartment, but kept his opinion to himself.

"It's pronounced Sioux Falls," Dean dead-panned back at her, staring at the ceiling above his bed where his old, faded poster of John Lennon was tacked; sagging more and more each time he came home from college due to the dust wafting under its edges from his ever circulating ceiling fan. One day it was going to fall down on him, Dean was pretty sure. "And god, Charlie this trip has been so weird. I've never been readier to come back to Texas."

" _I promise it's weirder here,"_ his roommate said ominously through the line. _"Have you talked to Sam lately?"_

"Dude," Dean sighed, running a hand over his face before he snatched his glasses off of the nightstand next to his bed; it was either get up now or wait for Jo to come barging in on him again acting like she was walking in on him watching porn, which hadn't happened since high school thank you very much, but he need another lecture from his mom about doors having locks for a reason like he needed a bullet to the back of his head. "He sent me some really cryptic text at like two in the morning to let me know he was alive. It was just a bunch of gibberish and little happy star emoticons. Has he come home yet?"

" _Why do you think I'm hiding out at Dor's place? When I got home from dropping you off at the airport he had this like horrible folksy music playing from his bedroom, really loud. Y'know how he does it when he brings a guy home, but Dean it still wasn't loud enough."_

"If it was that guy from the movie theater, then I believe you. Man, Sam has shit taste in guys." Dean mused.

" _Better than no taste in guys,"_ Charlie pointed out, Dean ignored her. He was good at ignoring both of his roommate's pointed comments about his nonexistent love life by now, just like he was good at ignoring them when they tried to set him up with someone; the last thing he needed was a pity date. _"Anyway, he promised he would pick you up when you flew home. Next Friday right?"_

"Yea, I'm not going to hold my breath on that one," Dean sighed, rolling out his bed with a soft groan and meandering over to power up his computer. "And it's a late flight so if you, y'know the reliable roommate, want to pick me up, I can drop you off at Red7 for Dor. I know you like that karaoke thing that they do on Fridays and I'm probably just going to want to crash. I'm spending the next week hanging out with Jo and her apathy for everything is exhausting."

" _Well, she's a teenager, Dean,"_ Charlie said and he could almost hear her shrugging at him through the phone. _"I'm sure you hated everything too when you were her age, especially since you were all emo and the only gay kid in your town. Besides jerking off, I'm sure your favorite hobbies were sleeping and crying."_

"Oh haha," Dean replied drily, drumming his fingers on his desk for a second before turning away from his computer with an agitated shake of his head. "I didn't jerk off all the time, y'know? I spent some time writing for the school paper."

Now that Charlie had mentioned it though...yea, he had jerked off a lot. And his dreams hadn't stopped being filled with half-formed images of dark hair and teasing glimpses of dark ink on pale muscled skin; he kept waking up hard and aching for release until he could get to the shower as stealthily as possible and the cold water shocked himself back to his senses. Dean needed a Dale Cooper fix like yesterday, but there was no way in hell he was going to watch gay porn while his family was home.

His nerves felt pulled taunt from the arousal thrumming under his skin and his sleep schedule had been entirely thrown off since school had ended; five months of classes that lasted from eight in the morning until four and then work, Dean was used to running off of only three or four hours of sleep. It felt decadent to sleep more than that and his body's natural alarm clock had decided that decadence was something he didn't deserve.

" _Jesus, Dean,"_ Charlie muttered through the phone at him. _"There are more important things in life than writing about which pig won the beauty contest at the county fair, when you get back here Dor and I are taking you out. We've already talked about it."_

"Charlie, I don't think I could stomach another gay bar," Dean complained, heading over to his dresser and sifting through the shirts inside until he found an old faded red Texas Is The Reason tee that would go pretty well with the straight legged jeans he was planning on wearing when he took Jo to the mall later. The lack of summer clothes in his wardrobe was borderline depressing and he figured buying a new swimsuit wouldn't be too overly indulgent, plus his mom would probably force her credit card on him anyway before they left. "I'm just not into camp and if Sam is with us, well I never get looked at anyway."

" _You get looked at plenty,"_ Charlie pointed out. _"You just are picky and you put yourself down and you get so fucking serious about a guy so fucking quickly, its scary. My whole endgame when you get back is to get you laid, not to get you married and if I have to fem you up a little it's going to happen. Between you never getting laid and Sam's being perpetually lost inside someone, well shit Dean I don't know which is more depressing; you not living a little or him living entirely too much."_

"Are you saying you want Sam to settle down?" Dean asked, grinning to himself when he thought of how much the larger man teased him for wanting commitment and stability and someone to come home to at night every night. Picturing Sam with a boyfriend was like picturing the same lumbering moose hugging a circus clown, both of those things were never going to happen. "Because I think that hell will freeze over first."

" _I just want him to slow down, Dean. I mean, you can only get that lucky sleeping around for so long before you get herpes or something, he needs to be more careful."_

"Oh my god, can you imagine Sam in a herpes commercial?" Dean scoffed, tossing his chosen clothes down onto his bed with a hand on his hip and a smirk. "Like one of the ones where they playing basketball or doing yoga and stop mid-downward dog to talk about how they are managing outbreaks?"

" _That would be the bitch face to end all bitch faces,"_ Charlie agreed, giggling at him through the phone before stopping herself. _"But seriously, we don't have to go to a gay bar if you don't want to. You should...oh! Come to karaoke with me and Dor. If you're still hung up on punk boys then I'm sure we can find you someone there, it is punk rock karaoke after all."_

"Charlie, I don't know any punk songs," he said despondently, glancing at the small bit of his record collection that he had left at home during his move to Texas. It was pretty much what was left of his highly regrettable ska phase in junior high along with the record Jo had bought him that he was planning on taking back to Austin. "I mean unless you count The Mighty Mighty Bosstones."

" _You don't have to sing, I know that's a bit outside your comfort zone, but if you wanted to I'm sure one of your little emo numbers would go over pretty well. All of those genres have more in common then you like to think they do, Dean."_ Charlie explained, Dean could hear Dor's voice chattering excitedly in the background; she had been trying to get him to come to her work's karaoke night for ages. His roommate laughed at something her girlfriend said and Dean heard what sounded like a kiss through the tinny receiver of his cell phone. _"Dor said you can sing a Babes in Toyland song, what honey? Oh, she said she would pay you Dean. She said no one ever sings riot grrrl anything, it's all agro-punk and Sheena is a Punk Rocker over and over all night."_

"Maybe I'll just watch or something," Dean offered as a compromise, he felt restless and nervous and now that he was actually going to do something about being chronically single when he got back to Texas, well he wasn't sure he was quite ready to go back. "But hey, um...I've got to get ready to take my sister out, we're going to the mall."

" _Buy some tight jeans!"_ Dor screamed through the phone and Dean realized that Charlie had probably had him on speaker phone this whole time, great. _"You've got a great ass, Dean! And no punk boy worth his salt is going to be able to ignore you if you sing; I've heard you in the shower remember?"_

"Thanks, Dor." Dean muttered, blushing from the compliments that he wasn't used to. His shy awkwardness was definitely going to be a hindrance for the two girls who were dead set on getting him laid, it was what had been holding him back this whole time after all. Stammering and blushing and mumbling were not cute, Bridget Jones was a liar. "I'll talk to you guys later okay?"

" _TIGHT JEANS!"_

* * *

Had everyone from Sioux Falls gone crazy except for him? Maybe it was something in the water?

But that still wouldn't explain Ed and Harry who had moved away at the same time he did and came home to visit their parents less often. Ed who was suddenly willing to try being in a relationship with another man when he had always been the first to blush when he caught Dean staring at a guy from another school during their Mathalete tournaments for too long. Harry who had always been crazy, but about Maggie and now the insanity had reached its reasonable conclusion and Dean had not been surprised in the slightest when he had raced up the stairs of Harry's basement so he could give Ed and Alan some privacy to find Harry and Maggie kissing hard against one of the kitchen counters.

Dean had just left then, apologizing to Harry's mom for not staying longer and texting both of his friends once he got home to let them know that he was not upset or annoyed, just happy for them all and saying they should grab dinner before he headed back to Austin and the quartet helped Maggie move to California later in the summer. It had just been too much, seeing all of their fucking happiness and shit and he had just gone home where he had proceeded to watch Dr. Sexy M.D. and eat ice cream with his mom for the next four hours.

Ellen Smith did not ask why her son was upset, because he had always been a moody teenager who had grown into an even moodier young adult and she knew eventually his brooding that he got completely from his father by the way, would attract the kind of person who could make her stoic son lighten up. She wasn't worried about him, she was worried about Jo; sixteen and out all hours of the night only to be brought home by that young fresh-faced deputy at least twice a week for breaking the town's curfew.

Dean understood this, which was why he didn't argue with his mom when she wordlessly handed him her credit card and gently shoved Jo in his direction so they could go have some sibling bonding time and maybe Dean could be a good influence on her. He wasn't totally convinced of his abilities to set her on the straight and narrow path because...well, obvious reasons, but he liked his sassy, foul-mouthed sister. She was brave, much braver than he was, Jo had been in more fights to protect his reputation that Dean was ever likely to be in.

When he'd come out at graduation, he hadn't had any idea how badly his family would suffer for it, but that was the problem with small-town mentality. People boycotted a mechanic just because his gay son had called them all morons once upon a time two years ago; the Smith & Turner salvage yard was only now finally starting to recover from Dean's tipsy pomp and circumstance rant. That's why he had been trying to keep himself under the radar when he took Jo to the mall, avoiding people who he recognized from high school simply because he didn't want to answer all those faux polite 'What are you up to these days?' type questions.

 _The same thing I was up to in high school,_ Dean thought when he got cornered and separated from his sister by that one girl who had been in the Mathelets with him, Harry, and Ed. _Working my ass off in my classes and hating myself for not having a social life._

"So do you have a boyfriend?" The girl asked, Cassie? Maybe? She had always been way too interested in his love life, even in high school. He vaguely remembered her being on the school paper too, doing the gossip column, ick. "I bet you do, you're probably dating like a cowboy or a bull rider or something. Does he let you wear his belt buckles? Ohmygod! Are you his buckle bunny?"

"Um...Cassie," Dean started, running a hand over the back of his neck and glancing over her shoulder to see if he could still spot Jo who had continued down the mall and into a store out of his sight. "Cowboys aren't really my type, but um...y'know it was great to see you and catch up. Look me up on Facebook or something, okay? I've got to find my sister."

"We're already Facebook friends," Cassie replied, frowning slightly when Dean just made a face that he hoped said 'Oh right, of course we are!' before politely pushing past her and racing down to the store that he was pretty sure Jo had ducked into.

It was the Gap, the kind of place that Dean only went to to get cardigans when he couldn't find any that didn't make his stupid, unwanted muscles look steroid inspired at one of the thrift stores in Austin. Jo wasn't a khaki and polo kind of girl, she preferred to dress in Dean's old clothes from before he had hit his last growth spurt and filled over during the summer of his sophomore year along with too short cutoffs of her standard year round jeans that made their dad shudder in disapproval anytime the older man saw his daughter wearing them. So what was she doing in the Gap?

"Excuse me," he said, knocking lightly on the counter in front of the register to get the attention of the girl who was busily hanging up t-shirts on a rack behind it. "But did you see a girl come in here a couple of minutes ago? Blonde, daisy dukes, about yea, high?"

Dean gestured at a spot on himself that was about shoulder height and felt the muscles there slump in relief when the cashier told him that she was in the dressing room. He nodded thanks at her and started towards the back of the store, grimacing at the monochromatic blandness of almost everything on the racks as he went. Dean didn't do a lot of color most of the time, but he was more than content to hold off on doing the whole button-down yuppie look until he was done with his business degree; once he had that he could make Smith & Turner Salvage into something really special.

Outside the dressing rooms he stopped, all the doors were shut and what was he supposed to do? Knock and hope that Jo answered? Dean took a seat in one of the courtesy chairs provided instead, crossing one leg over the other and pulling his phone out so that he could have something to do while he waited on his sister who was probably shoplifting and not actually trying on anything. He smirked at that, Dean would just love to see her explain that one away to their parents if she got caught.

He tapped away at his phone for a little bit, shooting off a message to Sam reminding him to hydrate and eat in the middle of whatever sex fest he was enjoying mostly because he knew it would annoy the other man to no end and then pulling up Spotify so he could look for a song that he might not be too mortified to sing in front of a sea of punks. Dean didn't think that he would sing, probably wouldn't that first time, but it helped to be prepared since Dor had a habit of taking advantage of him when he had been drinking and forcing him to do things he normally wouldn't do.

Like when he had first moved in with Charlie and Sam and she had written down his phone number for their cute waiter on their check. That was the one time he'd had sex this last year; when the other man had told him that Dean was too serious and that he was too young to want something like that just yet, Dean had taken the brush off with as much decorum as he could muster before crying in his room to The Wedding Present on repeat for a couple of days.

Oh, maybe Tiger Trap. It was kind of edgy in a sweet way and it would be cool to sing a song by a girl band, Dor would approve for sure.

"Jesus, Vic!" A voice said from one of the dressing rooms and Dean rolled his eyes at the exasperated tone his sister was using on whoever she was probably on the phone with. "I'm not going to fucking break or anything, just come on! I don't have all day here."

He wasn't expecting to hear a reply, certainly not one from a male voice and Dean fumbled with his phone in shock as he shoved in back in the pockets of his jeans; bending over in his chair with his hands on the floor to see two pairs of feet in one of the dressing rooms. How in the hell did the people who worked here not notice that?!

"Jo, this isn't a good idea. I mean, there are other ways we can see each other."

Dean stood up from his seat, wringing his hands and trying to decide if he needed to just get the girl at the register to handle it or break down the dressing room door to rescue his little sister from whatever stupid situation she had gotten herself into.

"Could you just fuck me already before my idiot brother starts calling me? Be a man, Vic." Jo complained and Dean ducked down again, watching as one set of feet disappeared off the floor just as the door to the dressing room that he suspected his little sister of being in rattled slightly on its hinges. "Much better."

_Oh fucking hell no._

Dean could deal with pity dates and hearing his roommates have sex all over the place at all hours of the day. He could deal with being intimately involved with his hand more than any other person, he could even admit to having more than just a little kink involving tattoos and piercings even though needles scared the shit out of him. Dean wasn't stupid, he knew he was a freak for wanting a relationship at 21 and for lusting after a stranger who had ordered a fucking coffee from him exactly one fucking time. He was a lot of things, but he was not the type of guy who could deal with hearing his little, his baby sister having sex with some guy in a dressing room at the fucking Gap.

"Joanna Beth Smith!" Dean yelled, surprising himself with how angry and forceful he sounded; maybe for once he could be the overprotective brother and not end up with a busted lip. He was in the right here; he knew he was in the right. "You have got to be kidding me! Get out here right now."

There was some scuffling and some cursing from the other side of the door along with the frantic, muffled giggles that Jo did anytime she had been caught doing something she wasn't supposed to be doing when they were little. Dean went red when the girl that had been at the register rushed back to glare at him disapprovingly, her eyes going wide when she saw the door to the dressing room open to eject Jo, smoothing down her hair and shrugging nonchalantly, and a guy who looked about the same age as Dean (a thought that made his stomach twist in disgust) in a security officer uniform, the shirt of which he was frantically tucking in.

"And who the hell are you?!" Dean asked, stepping up beside Jo with his body angled as much in front of her as he could. It was laughable, him trying to protect her since she was obviously going to do exactly what she wanted to do anyway or she would until she was grounded for the rest of her life. "You know she is sixteen right? That's one six, buddy, that means she's jailbait!"

"Dean he knows how old I am," Jo said behind him and he turned to see her rolling her eyes in that way that always set his teeth on edge. "And Victor's only 18."

"Yea, dude." The guy said, glancing nervously at the Gap employee who was impatiently tapping her foot at the three of them. "I mean, we went to high school together. Victor Henriksenn? I played football?"

Dean shook his head, he had blocked out a lot of high school mostly because it was too painful and too lonely and it just made him want to shut himself away in his house like he had when he was an awkward chubby teenager even though he wasn't anymore. Well, chubby and a teenager at least, he knew the awkward part was a work in progress. A lot of the stuff that had been blocked involved the football and the baseball team and the locker room so no, he didn't remember Victor as being one of his high school tormentors.

But he did remember Victor from the one night that he had woken up to his dad's shouting since he had been home. It had been late, well past two in the morning and Jo had just gotten brought home by what his mom had said was the newest deputy for the Sioux Falls Police Department. Dean remembered thinking it was weird when he had looked out the windows in their living room to see a nondescript black Crown Victoria pulling away, because all of the other SFPD's cop cars were the stereotypical blue and white, complete with matching lights.

"Jesus, Jo," Dean balked turning to face his little sister who looked completely unabashed, not even blushing under the scrutiny of the other people in the store who had stopped to gawp at their scene. "Did you tell mom and dad he was a cop?"

"Sir," the cashier said sternly, glancing around at the other customers. "You can't do this here, I'm going to have to ask you to leave the store."

Jo shrugged at him and gave the cashier a dirty look. "Mom and dad came to their own conclusions, I just didn't correct them. Unlike you, I don't feel the need to deprive myself of the things I want; your whole poor gay martyr complex was relevant in high school Dean, but it's getting really old. No one feels bad for you any more."

"This isn't about me, Jo," Dean replied, pushing his glasses up his nose with an agitated sigh. "This is about you make a spectacle of yourself when you don't have to. You're better than this, fucking having sex in dressing rooms? Really, Jo?"

"Leave," The cashier repeated firmly, pointing towards the door before she rounded on Victor who Dean could admit had the grace to look at least a little bit embarrassed by his actions. "And you, what is your supervisor's name? You're supposed to keep stuff like this from happening in this mall."

"Hey," Jo started, her expression turning stormy. "Don't get his boss involved in this, it was my fault. I'm the one who suggested it."

"Jo, come on. We are going home now," Dean said, catching her by the back of her shirt before his sister could get into one of her world famous cat fights. "And you can explain all of this to mom and dad, this is not my fault."

"Of course," Jo sneered, breaking out of Dean's grasp. "Perfect little Dean, only thing he ever did wrong was liking dick and you can't even do that right. At least I'm living Dean! What are you even doing in Texas? Just a new town to hide away in, you're fucking pathetic."

She whirled around, grabbing on to Victor's arm and pulling him towards the exit; putting up a choice finger at the cashier when she started to make an objection and leaving Dean to make the apologies that he was always making for his sister before following her out of the store. Only he wasn't sure what he was apologizing for anymore, Jo or himself.

Because out of all the people in his life who had tried to help him with the bullying at school or tried to set him up with someone or encouraged him to be more outgoing, no one had ever done it with more ferocity and zeal than his crazy, impetuous little spitfire of a sister. Part of it was probably just her being a hormonal, overdramatic teenager; he knew she would come and apologize to him later and they would watch old Firefly episodes until they fell asleep because that's what they always did after a fight. But she was right, he was pathetic and he needed to start living before it was too late. So even though it was insane, he could understand why she was pissed at him for not making the most of his fresh start in Texas now that he had the chance.

Yea, there must definitely be something in the water because everyone he knew was losing it just a little bit or maybe they were finding it, either way it was fucking crazy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yea, I included a Ed Zeddmore/Alan Corbett piercing the veil with gay love fix-it. Mostly because I wanted to and mostly just because. There will actually be CAS in the next chapter, along with pornstache and Sam and some bar-hopping. Watch me name drop my favorite bars in Austin because this fic is entirely self indulgent and selfish, I don't know why you're reading it. But I hope you like it, for whatever that's worth.
> 
> And thanks for the reviews and the subscribes and such, its nice to know that even though I'm getting entirely too nostalgic over this fic that someone out there likes it. :)


	4. a bit about bears, no battlestar just yet, and don't hold your breath on the beets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Exit pursued by a bear." -, William Shakespeare, stage directions in _The Winter's Tale_

"You could at least have prefaced it with a hello," Sam told him, giving Dean what he and Charlie secretly referred to as 'Bitch Face #34:The Hurt Puppy Dog'. "I mean, I told you I was sorry for running off on you before you left. I even called your mom and reminded her that you needed to be to be smashed in order to ride on a plane. What do I need to do to make it so you aren't pissed anymore? The laundry? Do I need to do the laundry, Dean?"

"Dude, I'm not mad," Dean said quickly, too quickly; revealing that he was still just a little bit mad about being left _again_ by his roommate so that Sam could go off and have some more meaningless sex with someone that he would never speak to again. "All I said was that I'm happy you didn't choke on a dick and die, I was honestly expecting Charlie to show up in mourning wear with the most obscene obituary for you ever clipped out from the Chronicle."

"Yea, but you said it all sarcastic and passive aggressive," Sam pointed out as Dean took the exit off of the highway back towards their house.

He was just so ready to get home so that he could take some valium and try to get rid of the anxiety that had been lingering since he had stepped foot onto the plane. Thanks to _Sam_ , his dad had made sure that his son was sober as the grave when he let him go through security at the small regional airport near Sioux Falls; Dean hadn't even had time to stop at the one bar in the airport for something strong before his take off and he had spent the short flight alternating between hyperventilating in the bathroom and biting his nails in his seat. He was pretty sure the businessman sitting next to him had thought he was a hijacker or something.

"Well, y'know I've had a rough couple of weeks, Sammy." Dean explained with a shrug, he really was madder about the alcohol than anything else, but at least with Sam picking him up maybe he could get out of going out to karaoke with Charlie and Dor. "I told you about Jo right?"

"Yea, you said she had a boyfriend or something now." Sam replied, running a hand through his hair as they cut down 7th street, passing the bar that Dor worked at and the one that Sam worked at that was just a little bit farther down one of the streets that branched off the one they were on.

Dean resolutely avoided looking at either of his friends' places of work because he didn't know if Charlie had said something about taking him out to Sam, but he was already planning on how he would beg out of going because he was tired. Not because he was scared of singing in front of a bunch of strangers or because he was even more scared of being rejected by every punk boy in the world because he was just as uncool and overly emotional as he had been in high school. No, he was tired. Or at least that was the best excuse he could come up with.

"Not only does she have boyfriend now," Dean continued jerking the Impala to a stop with a screech as a pedi-cab cut in front of him faster than should be humanly possible, but it was a Friday night and traffic was already moving slow to accommodate the bar patrons rambling around the streets of Austin. There were too short tube dresses, backwards University of Texas baseball caps, and khaki shorts as far as the eye could see on the sidewalks and all Dean could do was rub at his jaw and curse under his breath because as a rule he hated crowds of unfamiliar people. "But her boyfriend was like bestest buddies with the guy who used to swirly me in junior high. Oh, and Victor only wants to be a cop and my dad only loves him like the manly son he never had."

"I'm sure that's not true," Sam argued beside him, causing Dean to grit his teeth because Bobby fucking loved Sam too; he knew his dad loved him too of course, but without fail every time he went home they always argued about the shop and how the older man was still hesitant about Dean taking it over someday. No matter how many business degrees he got or how many times he fixed an unfixable car to prove that he could handle that side of the shop too, the veteran mechanic still had his doubts. "He was worried about you flying. Bob told me he felt bad about buying you the ticket in the first place—"

"Because he didn't want to see me," Dean interrupted, honking his horn at a group of girls dressed up like bad versions of Madonna from the 'Like a Virgin' music video as they slowed to a stop in the crosswalk in front of him to huddle around one of their phones.

They shot him dirty looks and multiple middle fingers as they hurriedly finished crossing the street, headed towards Barbarella if he had to guess and the bar's famous 80s night that he had never been to because y'know crowds. Plus they only played the big hits of the decade and skipped over most everything by My Bloody Valentine and Guided by Voices, which annoyed Dean to no possible end.

"No, you're being ridiculous. Your dad just knows that you don't like to fly, of course he wanted to see you, dumbass," Sam cajoled, reaching out a massive hand to ruffle Dean's hair which just knocked his glasses askew which just made him swerve slightly when he couldn't see the road clearly which just annoyed him more. The larger man threw his head back and laughed at the unamused look Dean leveled at him before holding his ribs that were covered by a tight fitting black V-neck shirt. "Oh my god, your face, Dean. We need to get you laid like yesterday. Speaking of um…so Gabe is at the house."

"Who the fuck is, Gabe?" Dean asked, maneuvering the car as quickly down a side street that connected to the one that would let them avoid the rest of the early weekend traffic as the lumbering metallic beast could manage without taking out the Priuses and Beetles that most of the university students chose to drive that were parked along the sides of the street.

"He's um…that guy, y'know the guy from the movie theater?"

"Pornstache!" Dean exclaimed, pressing hard on the accelerator, god he was so ready for this day and this week and this fucking soap opera that was his life to be over already. "Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

He saw Sam shake his head, rolling his eyes at the same time in a way that Dean had never quiet been able to replicate himself. "Don't call him that, apparently it's a sensitive subject no matter how appropriate the nickname is. I'm talking like Ron Jeremy big, Dean. OH wait! I think I might have a picture…"

"NO! Please no," Dean begged, hunching over the steering wheel when Sam pulled out his phone and started to tap around on the touch screen; frowning in concentration. He just wanted to sleep in his own bed tonight, in the sheets that didn't remind him of how lonely and miserable his life was and had been for almost as long as he could remember and he really really did not want to see a picture of his best friend's latest fuck buddy's junk. "Just…why is he there?"

"Well, his brother showed up unannounced," Sam explained, smirking at the lit up screen on his phone for a second before shoving the device back into the pocket of his jeans. "Cas called Gabe from the bus station a couple of days ago saying that the place he had been living at in Cincinnati had gotten condemned and that he needed a place to crash for a little bit. Apparently it's like a really weird unresolved sexual tension situation between his brother and one of his roommates and Gabe just needed to get away from it for a little while."

"But why is he at our house? I'm sure he had somewhere else he could have gone, you only just met him." Dean asked, unconvinced by the whole thing because he had only been gone two weeks and there was no way that everyone could have lost their minds while he was gone; Charlie was unlikely to be okay with one of Sam's hookups just hanging around the house, especially since their roommate tended to pick guys that had more muscles than brains or tact.

"You sound so shocked," the other man scoffed, fidgeting self-consciously with his seat belt as they turned onto the hill that led to their house. "Gabriel is just a nice guy, okay? He was in an uncomfortable situation and I told him he could stay. Chill, is not like he is sleeping in your bed or anything."

"That wasn't what I was worried about," Dean mumbled, clearing his throat and trying to not remember how desperately hopeful he had been on the one date he and Sam had gone on before it had turned out to be awkward as hell; he didn't want Gabriel to think that Sam was doing anything more than being the nice person that he was. "He knows that you're not like…looking for anything right?"

"Um…yea, of course," Sam replied non-committally, shrugging in the passenger seat of the Impala as they pulled to a stop in front of the house and Dean cut the engine. "We did look through your porn stash though, so if you notice some stuff moved around in your room…"

"I had all of that organized—" Dean started to complain, snatching his duffle bag full of clothes that his mom had washed for him before he left out of the backseat and then clambering out of the car to follow after the larger man who was already headed toward the front porch.

"Yea, we noticed," Sam teased, digging his keys out of his pocket since he had reached the front door before Dean had. "Gabe said that porn star you like so much kinda looks like his brother, so if you play your cards right then maybe he can set you two up or something."

"Sam I don't thi—"he started, intending to tell the other man that he didn't think that was a good idea because he had promised Charlie he would relax on the whole frantic boyfriend search that it felt like he was constantly engaged in and then maybe add something about how he highly doubted any brother of the short mustachioed man from the movie theater could look anything like Dale Cooper who was tall and muscled and tattooed.

But what cut him off was the scream, the scream that couldn't be mistaken as belonging to anyone other than Charlie; both he and Sam pushed past each other to get into the house so they could rescue their roommate from whatever was brutally murdering her when they stumbled into the kitchen where Dor was sitting perched on the top of the breakfast nook with her face buried in her hands.

"Is it over yet?" She asked, peeking between her fingers to look at where Charlie was sitting in one of the kitchen chairs with her small hands roaming over her now short, like really short hair. "Oh baby, your hair…"

"Well, here's the majority of it," Gabriel said blandly, slinging the long end of Charlie's shorn pony tail over her shoulder before he batted away her hands and frowned in concentration at her head. "So you said a pixie cut, right?"

Charlie just nodded and pulled her pony tail down into her lap with a shocked expression on her face. She was staring so intently at the limp bundle of red hair that was no longer attached to her skull that Dean didn't even realize that she was speaking until he heard his name. "Hey Sam, hey Dean. So um…Gabe is giving me a haircut."

"Oh well this must be Dean then," the shorter man announced, waving his hand that was holding a small pair of beautician scissors in Dean and Sam's direction. He gave Dean a serious once over, eyes lingering on his neck and on his chest and other areas that made him uncomfortable thinking about in the context of it being one of Sam's hookups looking at him like that. Dean felt very much like a piece of meat as he crossed his arms over his chest tightly and shifted his weight to his other foot. "You were right Sammy, he is super cute. Very um…Peter Parker-esque with the glasses and everything, probably too sweet and innocent for Cassie. Sorry, babydoll, my little brother would eat you alive."

"Why have you been talking about me?" Dean hissed to Sam, smiling tightly at Gabriel before he started towards his room; he had to move fast before the shock wore off and either Charlie or Dor started asking him about going out to karaoke. "In fact, why have you been talking at all? I thought you liked your hookups to be a one and done type of deal. Since when do you sit around with them and plot blind dates for me after having sex with them?"

"We weren't plotting a blind date," Sam answered, settling down in Dean's computer chair at his desk like the larger man had known that would be the first thing that Dean went to and was blocking him from turning the device on. "When we found your porn, Gabe said something about his brother looking like that actor you like and I may have jokingly said something about you jerking off to his brother every night and it kind of all snowballed from there. I haven't even met the guy so I doubt you would even like him, don't worry we were just joking."

"It's really nice to know that when I'm not here I'm just the butt of everyone's jokes," Dean grumbled, tossing his duffle bag down on his bed and then hesitating for a second before he crossed over to his dresser and started rifling out a pair of pajama pants. Normally, he just slept in boxers and so did Sam and it wasn't a big deal, but with the way Gabe had been looking at him, assessing, he wanted to have as many layers covering him as possible. "How long is your new best buddy going to be here anyway?"

"Dean we talk about you because we worry," Sam explained, stretching his legs out in front of him with a sigh. "When you're here you're either fun and sarcastic and like this fount of knowledge about shit like comic books and music that I will never know anything about or you're like a total shut in, especially during finals. It's a weird extreme and when you go home all we get are texts talking about how much you hate it there and how going back to Sioux Falls makes you all anxious and shit, but you still plan on taking over your dad's shop someday, I just don't understand. None of us do, we just want you to be happy, Dean. And okay, I know Gabriel is like a complete stranger to you, but he's a good guy, you should give him a chance. Come out with us tonight, we're meeting his brother and his roommates at Stubb's, Ben Kweller is playing a secret show."

That sounded a whole lot better than what he had been planning to do, which was to sit around and either watch porn because he hadn't been able to do more than fantasize and get reacquainted with his hand like he hadn't been since high school when he was at home or reorganize his record collection because he had watched _High Fidelity_ with Jo instead of _Firefly_ when they made up and the idea of chronological organization seemed like a unique challenge.

But Dor chose that moment, the moment when Dean was wavering and holding a pair of pajama pants and debating about maybe possibly proving Gabriel wrong and hooking up with the other man's brother anyway just to prove that he wasn't as sweet and innocent and boring as everyone thought he was, to amble into his room and snatch up his duffle bag that had been sitting unsuspectingly on his bed.

"No, he's coming to punk rock karaoke with me and Charlie," Dorothy announced, unzipping his bag and rifling through the contents until she found the pair of jeans that Dean had bought after returning to the mall sans Jo in order to get them as well as a new swimsuit. "Ah-ha! See he wants to walk on the tight pants side of life with me and Charlie, not the alt-country thing you're doing now with Gabriel and his whole crazy house of people. Did he tell you that his roommates are apparently fighting over his brother? You need to stay out of that psycho love troika, Dean."

"You do realize that you just called them a team of horses, right?" Dean asked softly even as Sam geared himself up to defend Gabriel who really must have made an impression on his perpetual bachelor lifestyle.

"Hey, I liked Ben Kweller before Gabe came along," Sam said quickly, glancing towards the open door and then back at Dean. "And Dean likes him too, right? I was just trying to keep him from shutting himself away with his books and his porn like some crabby old man, but if you guys already had plans…"

"Can we just agree that Dean is in love with a porn star and move on already?" Charlie called from the living room, earning a rousing laugh that could only belong to Gabriel. "He's coming with us. I have someone that I want him to meet and he has exactly fifteen minutes to get ready before this haircut is done. So leave him alone already!"

Dean sighed and ran a hand over his face, shoving his pajama pants back into his dresser and moving to his closet instead so that he could find a shirt to wear that might not make him look like a dork. All he had wanted to do was get home where things were normal and easy, but no. He cast a glance over his shoulder to see Sam and Dor having a silent conversation with their eyes until the girl noticed him watching and smiled sheepishly.

"Well, you heard the wife, Sam," Dor said in faux resignation. "Guess we better leave loverboy to it then. Oh, Dean did you pick out a song?"

"Dean's singing?" Sam asked wryly and Dean just stuck his head into his closet in an effort to hide how red he as pretty certain his face was turning. "Well, I don't know if I'll be able to live with myself if I miss that."

* * *

It took closer to an hour for Dean and Charlie and Dor to actually get out of the house and piled into the Impala before they could head down to Red7 for the karaoke night that Dean really didn't want to go to. Mostly because after Gabe finished with Charlie's hair, he decided he wanted to do Dean's too, especially after being told by Sam about his most recent obsession with punk boys and the one that got away during SXSW.

Gabriel had gone on and on about how he used to dye his brother's hair for him when they were teenagers and blah blah whatever Dean had stopped listening after Gabe had started talking about a bet that he had made with the younger man that he had known he wouldn't win. Dean just assumed that the talking was something they taught you in beauty school, some way of making the fact that you were a stranger touching another stranger's hair not so awkward for all the parties involved, but he had had such a hard time not talking back that he didn't even realize that the other man was coming at him with a stick of black eyeliner that he had gotten from one of the girls until Sam had to physically remove Gabe from the room by picking him up and carrying him off.

He had wanted to ask Gabe why it was so easy for him to talk to people he didn't know and how someone so fundamentally different from Sam, who was usually soft-spoken and mysterious outside of the bedroom in that way that just completely put other people at ease and made them feel safe, had managed to rope his roommate into liking him so much; because it was obvious that Sam liked the other man more than he was willing to admit, never like ever had Dean seen his friend go this far out of his way to help out one of his random hookups. But someone had to be the skeptic and Dean had always been good at filling that role for his friends.

It took another fifteen minutes to actually find a parking spot downtown now that the Austin nightlife was in full swing; police had cordoned off Sixth Street and were lazily eyeing the revelers who they were more than used to coming and asking them for pictures or directions or which bar they liked the best as they leaned against the hoods of their cruisers and chatted about whatever it was that cops chatted about with each other. Dean knew that by the end of the night they would be chauffeuring some of the more inebriated frat boys and sorority girls home to Greek row, but for now the Austin police presence was content to eat commped slices of pizza off of paper plates and incredulously eye some of the more outrageous fashion statements walking up and down the sidewalks beside them.

Dean felt like one of those walking fashion disasters as he trailed behind Charlie and Dor toward Red7 from where they had ended up parking his car under the bridge that had the highway running over it. His shirt, that wasn't even his shirt but one of Dor's that she had been holding onto since her chubbier, junior high days, felt too short and his jeans felt like they were being dragged off of his hips by the heavy silver studded leather belt that Charlie had grabbed for him as they were dashing out the door once they realized that her girlfriend was running late to wok because of Dean's impromptu makeover. They hadn't let him shave, and honestly he hadn't had time after Gabe had finished artfully spiking up his hair using some kind of glue that the other man swore up and down was strong enough to keep liberty spikes airborne, but it felt weird and he wasn't the only one who kept twitching their hand toward their hair, Charlie was doing it too.

Charlie also tried to convince him that eyeliner was the way to go, citing the fact that it had been one of the most memorable features about his mystery punk boy that he had obsessed over until it felt stalkerish after SXSW and that Dean had pretty amazing eyes, but Dean had put his foot down about that because he already couldn't see half the time anyway and he didn't want to have his eyes stinging from some cosmetic that he wasn't used to wearing when he was trying to look alluring and attractive. Watery eyes were pretty much the opposite of attractive.

"Dean your ass looks absolutely fantastic," Dor announced as she ushered him and Charlie past the smirking girl and boy who were manning the door' checking ids with their sharpies and their stamps at the ready to differentiate those who were drinking from those who weren't.

Dean hesitated before following his friends because holy shit he was going to need more than a few drinks before he could even think about getting up on stage and singing anything, but he also knew that Dor was going to serve him regardless of whether he had a stamp or not; just like she did Sam even though it broke all the rules of the bar and more than just a few laws when she served the underage man anything stronger than a soda.

He felt like he could already feel the eyes on him, assessing gazes coming from all corners of the room that were making him feel itchy and too noticeable. Dean was much more comfortable and used to fading quietly into the background and just observing everyone around him; yea, it meant he was a wallflower, but he liked to make up stories for the people he noticed in his head. Why was that girl standing that close to that guy even though he was clearly holding hands with a different girl? Where did that guy get that awesome looking tattoo done at? Did his mom approve of her son having a C3PO tattoo? Probably not, but Dean liked making up the awkward family dinner where the mom had first noticed the ink on her son; it was just something he had always done when he was nervous and couldn't talk to people.

And man, was he nervous and fuck, weren't there a lot of people here? Dean was pretty sure that he was going to throw up long before he ever got a chance to sing, drinks or no drinks. Punk rock karaoke happened at Red7's indoors bar which was smaller and more intimate, painted in shades of red and yellow along with the club's hammer and sickle communist logo peppered in amongst the old show flyers that were peeling off the black painted brick walls. It wasn't his first time being there, but it was the first time that Dean had been there when the bar was actually doing something besides setting up for a show later in the day or playing host to the early afternoon bar goers that he had always found slightly depressing.

Someone was already up on stage, belting out a poppy sounding anthem that kept going on and on about a TV party and drinking with the house band doing its level best to make the guy singing sound not completely terrible even though he kept changing the tempo every few lines. The whole deal that made Red7's karaoke night one that made people from all over the city flock out in droves and pack the small indoor bar was the live band backing whoever was singing. This wasn't your mom and dad's basement karaoke machine.

The band was comprised of a strange assortment of Austin natives and Seattle imports; they mostly tried to play punk songs, because they were an actual punk band and this was just a steady gig to pay the bills to them, but Dor had told him that they weren't above knocking out Brittney Spears or a top 40s hit if they knew the basic melody. Dean had no intention of singing something like that, but when he had told Charlie and Dor in the car what he wanted to sing he had been met first with confused silence until he rifled out an old mixtape from his glove compartment and played them the song and then both girls were chattering about how perfectly it fit him and how the song coupled with his borrowed pseudo-punk look would surely get him the hottest guy in the bar.

Dor headed behind the bar first thing and snagged Dean and Charlie a couple of beers, dropping a kiss onto her girlfriend's cheek with a little hop across the bartop and hand ran quickly through the now drastically shorter strands of hair at the back of Charlie's neck. The redhead was blushing when she pulled away from Dorothy and promptly started pulling Dean away from the bar and towards the sign-up sheet for singing that was near the front of the stage.

"Charlie, can't I get a couple of drinks in me first?" Dean whined, muttering apologies to the people that Charlie was just barely managing to squeeze through as she pulled him along; he kept knocking into them and it made his glasses rattle imperiously on his face.

"Do you want an even bigger audience than this?" Charlie asked in return, turning around to raise an eyebrow at him once they got to the line at the front for the sign up. The list was being manned by a burly looking guy with a beard wearing an old black fisherman's hat and an off-white Henley that had the sleeves pushed up slightly. "Plus I wanted you to meet Benny, Dor thinks you two will really click."

"This isn't like a date set up or anything, is it?" he asked warily, craning his neck to get a better look at the guy. Not exactly his type lately, but he had a nice smile and it wasn't like Dean could be choosy when no one wanted him to begin with.

"No!" Charlie exclaimed, laughing and shaking her head quickly causing the long dangling earrings that she was wearing to swing against her neck. "Benny is like the straightest arrow in the quiver, but Dor says he's been on the punk scene here since he was a fresh faced teenager straight from the bayou. If anyone knows who your mystery guy is then it's going to be Benny."

"I thought I told you that I was giving up on that," Dean shout-talked, the music was louder now that they were closer to the stage and there was a girl up there singing a raucous rendition of _Seether_ by Veruca Salt, a song that Dean recognized from a tape that Dor had left in his car once.

He hoped the music also hid how miserable his voice sounded when he thought of the punk boy with the unwanted mohawk and the horrible girl who had made it painfully clear that they were together. Dean hoped that the dim smoky atmosphere covered up the brief flash of pain that he knew crossed his face too, especially since Charlie chose the exact moment that it happened to turn around and look at him incredulously.

"Oh honey," Charlie cooed, cupping his jaw for a sisterly half-second before she slapped his cheek lightly and took his hand to hold as the line continue its sedate pace closer to the stage. "You may think you have given up, but you haven't."

"What about the whole 'get me laid, not get me married' speil?" Dean asked, swallowing hard when he noticed they were next in line and that with the way the band was powering through the short songs that people were picking he would be singing long before he was drunk enough to actually want to.

"No one said you can't have fun while you're looking for the one," Charlie answered, winking at him at the same time she gave his hand a consolatory squeeze. "Trust me; I gave a lot of lip before I found the person I actually wanted to pay lip service to. Not to say it wasn't fun, but I was on the verge of carpal tunnel by the time I met Dor and I could've bought stock in Chapstick with how much I spent on that shit."

"Did you just make a joke about eating someone out?" Benny asked, catching the tail end of their conversation as Charlie tugged Dean the last couple of steps to the small table that was set up beside the stairs that led to the stage. "I never thought I would live to see the day, hanging out with that munchkin Gabe must be rubbing off on you. Whoa! Hold on guys."

The larger man turned quickly and gave the shell shocked looking girl who had just finished singing a hand down as she stumbled down the steps and to his credit, Benny hardly batted an eye when she leaned in close with a breathed thanks and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Dean tried to contain his eye roll and just thanked whoever was listening that Dor and Charlie hadn't actually been trying to set him up with this guy, he probably had a different girl in his bed every night working at a place like this. In Dean's experience, nice guys only finished last when it was him or when it was a Green Day song.

"You know Gabriel?" Dean asked over the music, leaning over the table so that he could read the names of the songs that other people were singing where they were written in Benny's spiral notebook.

"Oh yea," Benny said with a shrug, having the grace to blush from the other girl's attention as he turned back to face Charlie and Dean; picking up his pen in a business-like manner as he went. "Guy used to come into the Bear twice a week or so when his ex still worked there and after Baldur ran off to Baton Rouge I gave Gabe a shoulder to cry on a couple of times, at least until he met Sam. Am I right, Charlie?"

"I'm pretty sure Sam's in love with him, but is too jaded to say it," Charlie agreed, bumping her shoulder into Dean's and drawing the larger man's attention towards him as a result. "But this strapping young buck is my other roommate, Dean."

"Oh!" Benny exclaimed, sticking out a massive hand for Dean to shake and pulling him into clap him on the back briskly across the table separating them. "Dorothy's told me a lot about you. Said you were looking for a guy with a mohawk? Might have been around during spring break?"

"Not really looking," Dean mumbled, realizing how crazy and insane and how creepy it was that he could still picture the exact way that the smoke had curled out of the punk boy's mouth as he had leaned against the wall at Cheapo's and how he had definitely been having reoccurring dreams about mapping out dark tattoos on pale skin with his tongue even though the person that the tattoos belonged to was faceless Dean just knew who it was because there was only one person it could be. Clarence. Blue eyes. "Just like…wondering if he's still alive. Y'know, it's more of a general concern that one person has for another person that they've never really spoken to or formally met. That kind of concern."

"So…" Benny said, looking confusedly between Charlie and Dean. "You don't actually know this person? Like anything about him that might help me figure out who he is for you so that you can go pine after him in private like a normal person? A name maybe?"

"No," Dean said quickly waving away the offer because yep, he was super fucking creepy and he didn't need more people knowing about how desperate he was than the people who already did know. "Just um…forget it. Forget Dor said anything or that I said anything, just um…I want to sing I guess."

"Alright, brother," Benny said with a shrug, sliding the notebook in Dean's direction and holding the pen out to him; it felt like a challenge in a lot of different ways. "I mean if you're sure you want to forget the whole thing, singing's the best way to get over your troubles."

Dean nodded and took the pen, quickly scribbling out the name of the song that he wanted to sing before he lost his nerve; just like he had lost his nerve when he had had the chance to talk to Clarence and still hadn't done it.

"I think I need another drink," Dean said to Charlie, barely resisting the urge to scrub an agitated hand through is gel hardened hair like he usually did when he was nervous and instead dropping a hand to rub at his jaw instead. He hadn't shaved since before leaving Sioux Falls and he was on the border between bearded and five o'clock shadow that Gabe had sworn any guy with half a dick would want to eat off of his jawline.

"Okay, you stay here," Charlie said quickly, taking the empty bottle that he had just finished downing out of his hand and replacing it with her own that was still half full and taking a pushing him closer towards Benny. "I will get you another drink, you two talk about music and whatever shit it is guys talk about when girls aren't around. I'll be back before you sing, I promise."

Dean wanted to argue with Charlie or maybe just tag along behind her so that he wouldn't be left alone to make awkward small talk with this guy who he had just met, but he didn't want to seem rude so he just cleared his throat and crossed his arms over his chest instead. He smiled tightly at Benny who looked faintly amused by how uncomfortable he was, but thankfully didn't comment on it any more than just raising his eyebrows and crossing a name off the top of the list as the guy clambered up on the stage to sing _Suburban Home_ which was pretty much the only song Dean knew by the Descendents because it was the only song he had listened to before clicking next on the Pandora station that was pulling up stuff that he might like that was related to Jets to Brazil.

The station had gotten out of control and soon after that he had switched to playing records because how in the hell was Go Sailor related to Operation Ivy he had no idea, but he hadn't wanted to listen to anything other than sad and mopey music at the time and his record collection was full of that so at least this way he got exactly what he wanted.

"So when you say you know Gabe from the Bear," Dean started, reaching for something that he could use to make conversation with Benny that wasn't about him or the stupid crush he was apparently still holding onto months after it was sane and normal for him to have stopped wanting something that he was never going to have. "Do you mean like…I mean, what exactly is 'the Bear'?"

"Oh," Benny said with a wide and winsome smile, Dean could see why the girls maybe threw themselves at someone who was so open about his amusement; if only Dean could be that carefree all the time. "That. Um…well the Bear is The Iron Bear, that bar down 8th and Colorado. My cousin owns the place and I help him out sometimes by bartending when they have really big events. I was down there during SXSW when Allison Weiss played, it was pretty much the best show I've ever been to."

Dean furrowed his brow in confusion, remembering all of the times that Sam had tried to get him to go to The Iron Bear when Sam wanted to pick up someone who could manhandle him for once; it was a bear bar, like a big gay bear bar and that definitely was not Dean's scene.

"Charlie said you were straight?" Dean said trying to sound a lot less annoyed than he felt because god help Charlie and Dor if this really was a set up after all. "What are you doing working at a bear bar?"

"Well, it's a family thing," Benny replied with a shrug, reluctantly reciprocating the high five from the guy who was coming down off the stage and then ushering the girl ahead of Dean up who looked like she belonged at Barbarella more than she belonged at a punk rock karaoke night; it was no surprise that she was singing Blondie. "Plus, have you seen me? I'd be stupid to not pick up a couple of shifts there every once in a while. Those guys are outrageous tippers and real friendly, even when they find out I'm not on the market they still tip me well. But I guess you know all about what it's like to be a piece of eye candy, huh?"

"Hmmm, not really," Dean said, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck; he felt like he was being stared at again and it was reminding him too much of high school when the guys who had picked on him had waited predatorily until he was alone so they could rough him up a little bit. "I mean, I prefer to kind of just blend in; not stick out y'know?"

"You're shy, but you're still getting up on stage at a huge karaoke night to sing? You must have lost a bet or something," Benny joked, tilting his head at the stage thoughtfully for a second. "But hey, at least you didn't have to shave your head or anything. Maybe this is worse for you though, Gabe tends to have a sixth sense about what a person's worst fear is. Next time I see him I'll let him know this was a particularly cruel and unusual punishment."

"Thanks?" Dean was more than confused now, he hadn't lost a bet to Gabriel. In fact, he almost did actually want to sing just to see if he could do it without throwing up everywhere, but also maybe he wanted it to be a metaphor for his coming out of his shell and being willing to try new things. Or maybe he was putting too much stock in how much of a difference one round of karaoke could actually make in his life.

Benny just nodded and made a meaningful gesture at the girl guitarist in the house band who was standing closest to him; she raised an eyebrow at him and went into the ending riff for the song that they were playing. It was a blessing for the audience who burst into cheers when the girl who had been singing in a key only dogs could hear took a sweeping bow, hooking the microphone back into the stand before blowing a few kisses and strutting off the stage with more confidence than Dean was pretty sure he would ever feel in his life.

Dean felt his phone buzz in his pocket when the girl knelt down next to Benny, looking at the list of songs that they still needed to play before she raised an eyebrow in Dean's direction. He chose to ignore it, knowing that she was probably judging him for picking a song that wasn't exactly punk and wasn't exactly emo, but somewhere in the middle where it probably would earn him the attention of exactly no one in the bar because no one would know what it was.

Whatever, it was what he wanted to sing and Charlie had already made him take off the shirt that he had tried to wear for the same band forcing him into Dor's old shirt that barely fit and made him feel naked and advertised Siouxsie and the Banshees who he had never ever once listened to. He felt like a fraud and singing Archers of Loaf would help him center himself again. But his pants were also too tight for him to get his phone out of his pocket. So when Benny ushered him up onto the stage, holding the mostly empty second beer with his hand half shoved into the ultra small pocket of the stupid pants that Dor had insisted he buy, Dean just put on his most sheepish smile and pried his hand free so that he could set the beer bottle down at his feet and did his level best to ignore the insistent buzzing coming from his phone.

Dean tried to squint against the too bright light, silently thanking Sam for hauling Gabe and his eyeliner away from him because he was already sweating and already couldn't see any father than the people who were pressed right up against the short stage which was also probably a blessing because he knew everyone was watching him and for the first time since junior high Dean felt the crushing, vice-like tension on his lungs that had accompanied his asthma attacks when it was already too late for his inhaler to do any good. Someone cat-called him, whistle piercing though the chatter and the tuning of the guitarist beside him who had turned briefly to confer with the rest of the band about the song he was singing and making Dean blush scarlet red under the lights that he knew were picking up every move he made.

"What's your name, cutie!?" A girl shouted out of the crowd; Dean almost recognized it as Charlie's voice. In fact, he was pretty sure it was Charlie and he made a mental note to drink all of her expensive organic apple juice as soon as he got home, right in front of her if he could manage it.

Dean leaned in towards the microphone, wincing slightly when it hit his chin and reeled from the static thump it made that sounded ultra loud now that he was surrounded by speakers on all sides. He forced a chuckle that he didn't feel, mostly to keep himself from crying over how badly he was already fucking this all up and pushed his glasses up his nose, "My name is Dean and um…most of you have probably never heard this song."

He glanced over at the guitarist who gave him an encouraging nod before the drummer started the tap in on the edge of the drum head, _1-2-3-4._

"Stuck a pin in your backbone," Dean started, trying his damndest to not butcher the lyrics because he knew he was no Eric Bachmann, but _Web in Front_ had been his penultimate feel-better-when-everything-else-is-shit song for as long as he could remember and he wanted to do it justice even if no one else in the crowd 'got it'. "Spoke it down from there, all I ever wanted was to be your spine. Lost your friction and you slid for a mile. Overdone, overdrive, overlive, override."

Charlie appeared at the front of the crowd, elbowing her way past a very tall guy who had a camera looped lazily around his next and the girl who had been singing Blondie as she pulled Dor along with her to stand in front of him. She held a new beer out to him Dean took it in between verses, swigging a mouthful of it which earned him a cheer from somewhere farther back in the crowd; this time from a deeper sounding male voice

"And there's a chance that things'll get weird, yea that's a possibility. Although I didn't do anything, no I didn't do anything."

His favorite part was next and Dor and Charlie were cheering for him and even though Sam and Gabe had decided to go to see Ben Kweller instead, expecting Dean to be singing much later than he actually had ended up doing, it was still really fucking cool and not nearly as scary as he had thought it would be; especially since he could hardly see anyone. He just tried very hard to ignore the fact that they could all still see him, see every time he swayed into the verses in his too tight jeans and his too stiff hair with his phone that was just buzzing along with the rest of his nerves going off distantly in his pocket. As long as he could ignore all of that, this was perfect.

"And a mouth kept shut and a tongue twist tie, you're the web in front you're the favorite lie. You're the buck my lip, you're the lash my lie. You're the web in front of a favorite lie. Stuck a pin in your backbone, spoke it down from there. All I ever wanted was to be your spine, I've got a magnet in my head. A magnet in my head, extra thick, extra long the way it was wasted…wasted."

The house band did a very early nineties worthy trill at the end of the song as Dean fought to catch his breath back, he was sweating just a bit which was gross, but he could deal as long as the crowd was clapping and cheering for this new and improved Dean would could get up on stage and sing in front of strangers. Even if it was only for tonight and tomorrow he went back to being the boring bookstore guy that no one looked twice at least it made the last two weeks he had spent at home being noticed for all the reasons he didn't want to be just like in high school entirely worth it because it had brought him to this moment when he felt okay with being weird.

Dean gave a self conscious wave and picked up his beer, gesturing to Charlie and Dor that he would meet them at the bar before he was swept off the stage by the band who kept thanking him from some strange reason. They said it was because he picked a song that they had to turn off autopilot to play and Dean didn't get it, but he did in an almost-not-really get it sort of way. He supposed that karaoke night was probably the most tedious night of the week for the musicians who had found a way to live while still doing what they loved, maybe he would be that lucky someday and working on cars would just be the tedious thing he had to do in order to keeping doing what he loved.

Benny gave him a sharp clap on the back as he passed the larger man and scream spoke something about someone looking for him, which Dean figured was probably Charlie or Dor who were both totally hopeless when it came to reading hand signals that they were probably lurking close by to ambush him with girly-stained kisses and high pitched squealing. So he nodded and started in the direction of the bar cautiously, tugging down his borrowed shirt in an effort to maybe make it long enough to at least go over his belt instead of just hovering uncomfortably where it would show off skin if he so much as leaned the wrong way.

When he got there all he found was the other guy who had been working the bar when he and Charlie and Dorothy had gotten there and no matter what he did the alt-bro was totally engrossed in making shots and goo-goo eyes at the girls who were at the opposite end as him to hear him when Dean called for his attention.

 _So much for not turning invisible again until tomorrow,_ Dean thought, misery threatening to dampen his high spirits as he downed the last of his beer in a couple of fast gulps and turned to head towards the bathroom so he could see how badly he had sweated through his form-fitting clothes.

He had only taken a couple of steps when he felt the tap on his shoulder, firm and purposeful so it was probably Charlie and she was probably about to leap into his arms so Dean steeled himself for that when he turned to face her, forcing a smile on his face that fell as soon as he saw that it wasn't Charlie. It wasn't Charlie at all.

"So this is what baristas do on their days off?" The punk boy asked, lip ring sparkling just as brightly as Dean remembered as Clarence leveled a smirk at him that made him feel like he had missed the punchline of the best joke in the world.

His hair had grown back, it was still shorter on the sides than it had been that first time that Dean had seen him, but it wasn't completely gone either like it had been at SXSW. There was a new tattoo, one that Dean knew hadn't been there when he had last seen the other man because every single fucking feature had been burned into his memory and he had fantasized so many times about exactly this, well maybe not _exactly_ this, happening that he wasn't likely to have missed the large tattoo on the other man's right forearm of a slim dagger that spanned the entire length.

Clarence was wearing tight black jeans that rivaled Dean's and probably beat them by about a mile in snugness along with a faded navy Matador Records t-shirt that made the blue that were his eyes pop when they should have faded in the dim lighting of the club like Dean was sure his own had done. Maybe it was the eyeliner that the other man was wearing as his eyes roved up and down Dean's body, fuck maybe he should've let Gabe put that stupid eyeliner on him.

"Y'know, I think I liked the whole introverted bookworm look a little better," Clarence joked, taking a step closer to Dean and causing his lungs to remind him that _oh, yea breathing is something you need to do every once in a while if you want to stay alive._ "Can I buy you a drink?"

"Oh god yes," Dean breathed, only realizing that he sounded more than a little bit like John Watson who he had never thought was gay when Charlie and Dor argued all the time that he so totally was, but y'know what? Maybe he fucking was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had writer's block guys, like majorly whoa. And honestly, I was going to keep you in suspense about Cas...ahem Clarence showing back up in this story for at least one more chapter, but I got impatient and I need him okay. I needed him in this story like right the fuck yesterday so he's here now and we can all breath a little easier. Let me know what you think and hopefully my writer's block has taken a hike for a good long while. xoxo


	5. sometimes you eat the bar and sometimes the bar eats you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The beauty of quitting is, now that I've quit, I can have one, 'cause I've quit."-Tom Waits on the topic of cigarettes, _Coffee & Cigarettes_

Dean had been forced to watch _Talladega Nights_ a couple of times by Ed and Harry, it had been big when he was in high school and while he 'got' the jokes, he didn't exactly _get_ the humor. It just wasn't really his style and more than once his friends had made a crack about him maybe needing more than just the stick he had shoved up his ass to help him lighten up. Things had gotten better since moving to Texas, his sense of humor had improved and Dean found the funny in a lot of things he hadn't found very funny before. _Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion, Ten Things I Hate About You,_ hell even _Zoolander;_ comic fucking gold.

But this was definitely the first time that he had identified with Ricky Bobby or even Will Ferrell on a deep, personal level. Mostly because he had no idea what to do with his hands and okay, maybe things could be worse because he could be pulling a total Molly Shannon in _Superstar_ right now and have his hands shoved into his armpits. Damn, high school and his fucking friends' fascination with _Saturday Night Live_ straight to hell.

Clarence (aka: Mysterious Punk Boy of His Fucking Dreams) was right there and all Dean could do was gape at the small, pale sliver of the other man's hip that he could see peeking out from between the dark material of his jean and his shirt as he leaned over the bar at Red7 and tried to flag down the waiter who was ignoring the fucking gorgeous excuse for a person who really really should not be allowed to just walk around without some kind of public alert system in place, just as much as he had ignored Dean. He wanted to touch, god did he ever want to touch, but that was probably a bad idea because as far as he knew Clarence was straight and this was just a dude getting another dude a drink with no strings attached to it.

Never had Dean wanted to be a puppet more in his life than right now, but he bit his lip and shoved his hands as far as he could into the pockets of his stupid skinny jeans so that he wouldn't be tempted to do something stupid that would get him knocked out on the sticky barroom floor. His phone was still vibrating, nudging annoyingly at his fingertips with a message from probably Charlie or Dor telling him they had skipped out to have sex in his car or something else that would only serve to remind him of how pathetic his own love life was in comparison.

"Where is the chick bartender?" Clarence muttered, letting out an annoyed sigh as the guy behind the bar glanced dismissively in their direction before going right back to the conversation he was having with a girl across the scarred oaken bar top from him. "This guy's a FUCKING DICK! Sorry 'bout this."

"No," Dean said quickly, pulling his hand out of his pocket with a grimace so that he could adjust his glasses on his face. " S'not your fault. Guess this is just is a sign that I didn't need any more drinks. I'm driving so…"

"So you're a boy scout too?" the other man said, smirking at him mischievously and shaking his head before holding out a hand towards Dean. "Got any cash?"

He nodded quickly and reached into his back pocket, fumbling for the Star Wars wallet that Sam had gotten him for Christmas that now seemed completely and utterly juvenile in the face of the so much more suave and sophisticated seeming Clarence. Dean extracted a ten and held it up for the other man between his index and middle fingers only for Clarence to frown disapprovingly at it before shrugging at taking it out of his hand. Dean watched as the other man hopped up to lean over the bar and snatch three bottles of Shiner Bock out of the bed of ice that they were chilling in just as the oblivious bartender finally wised up to what the triumphantly smirking punk was doing.

"Here's for your trouble!" Clarence called, waving the ten at the other man as he handed Dean one of the beers and started steering him away from the bar with his free hand. "Probably didn't deserve the tip you left him, but I've learned it's better to make yourself scarce after doing that. I doubt we'll get served another drink for the rest of the night."

"I'll get the next ones when Dor comes back," Dean yelled over the music that had started back up again with the house band playing a very unenthusiastic cover of _Creep_ by Radiohead and yea, Dor had not been lying when she said they weren't above playing radio hits, but the eye-rolling and listless drumming was visible all the way at the back where Clarence had pulled him to stand next to the sound booth. The other man raised a questioning eyebrow as he rifled out a set of keys with a bottle opener attached and proceeded to open one of the beers that he was holding along with Dean's. "She's my friend, the bartender chick. If you want she'll take care of our next round for us. Not to presume that you'll want a next round or whatever, but…yea."

Clarence smirked and clinked his open bottle against Dean's, tilting his head back to take a couple of long draughts that gave Dean the opportunity to admire the muscles in the other man's neck and catch another tantalizing glimpse of dark ink peeking out of the collar of his shirt before the punk boy looked over at him and caught him watching. Dean was just happy that the dim lighting and the loud music hid his blushing and sputtering because it was super unattractive and even if he didn't have an ice cube's chance in hell with Clarence, he didn't want the image of the other man sneering or mocking him for being a dork ingrained in his memory when he was fully intending to make this into a very elaborate jerk-off fantasy later.

"You're pretty fucking gorgeous, y'know?" Clarence said, leaning his shoulder into Dean's as someone excused their way past them which was good because the jostling made it look like the beer that came shooting out of Dean's nose as he choked on his drink and his incredulity at the other man's comment was because of how the mostly drunk party girl bumped hard into his arm and not because he was a total spaz.

Dean coughed and wiped a hand over his chin where the beer had dribbled down his face and tried very hard to look like he wasn't ready to go curl up in a corner and die somewhere already. In all of his fantasies of how he might act if he ran into the other man again, not a single one of them had involved this many people and opportunities to embarrass himself nor had they involved stupid jeans that were slowly cutting off the circulation in his legs or a phone that was frankly starting to make his hip hurt from how long it had been buzzing against the jut of bone.

"I…um…my name's Dean," he offered lamely, reaching for something that he could say in response besides going off on a tangent about how Clarence had eyes that rivaled planets imploding and how his skin looked like chiseled alabaster that Dean had thought about eating ice-cream off of on more than one occasion. No one ever called him gorgeous, sure he got adorable and cute and one god awful time he got endearing like he was some weird quirk that got explained away because it was unique only to him. But he never got gorgeous or sexy or even hot for Christsakes.

"I know what you're name is," Clarence said grinning at him before he flicked his eyes up and down Dean's body and leaned in close enough to talk right into his ear. "You said it on stage, remember?"

Dean nodded numbly and shut his eyes against the sudden swell of lust that he got from how sultry and sure the other man sounded. Dangerous, like a jaguar that someone had thought would make a great pet only to find out later that you could take the cat out of the jungle, but you couldn't take the jungle out of the cat.

"And uh…um what's your name?" Dean managed to croak out, licking his lips as the other man leaned back far enough to tip his drink up again and take another long swig out of his beer.

Clarence tilted his head at him in confusion before he turned and tossed his empty bottle into the closest recycling can, smiling smugly before popping the cap on his second beer with his keys. Dean hadn't even started on his drink yet, too entranced by the other man's movements to even register that the bottle was sweating moistly in his hand, leeching more and more warmth out of his skin with every passing second.

"What did you say?" Clarence asked, taking a much smaller sip of his drink as he arched into Dean, pressing his narrower hip into the larger man's borrowed studded belt and tilting his ear close to Dean's mouth. "Sorry, I can barely hear anything in here. Hey, is this one those states where you can't smoke inside anymore?"

"I think it's more of a city by city thing," Dean mused back, melting just a bit when Clarence just shook his head in confusion and gestured towards his ears in an indication that he hadn't heard what Dean had just said. He raised his voice and put his mouth almost entirely against the other man's hear, ignoring the fission of electricity that arced down his spin when his lips brushed the shell of Clarence's ear. "There's a smoking patio, outside. In the front."

The punk nodded sagely and looped a finger into one of Dean's belt loops, tugging him along gently as they made their way through the crush of bodies and towards the front door that was still being manned by the girl who had been sitting there checking IDs when Dean had arrived with his friends earlier. She gave the pair of them an incredulous look and Dean tried to picture how they looked through her eyes, a thoroughly mismatched pair of someone who was actually attractive and alluring with someone who obviously wasn't. He knew how they looked, but a little part crowed over the fact that even though everyone could tell he was a fraud, Clarence still had his fingers looped through his belt loops and not someone else's

"You can't take your drinks outside," She said wincing away from the opening screech that was the girl onstage completely ruining a riot grrrl song that Dean only vaguely knew from the stuff that Dor and Charlie were always dancing around to as they washed dishes with their hips bumping in a way that made his teeth hurt it was so sweet and domestic. "Shit, it's like seeing Hanna get punched in the face all over again."

Clarence glanced over his shoulder at the girl who was singing and gave a noncommittal little shrug before setting his beer on a ledge that ran beside the door on the inside of the building. Dean tried very hard not to swoon when the punk took his drink and did the same, positioning the bottles next to each other like he had every intention of keeping Dean by his side so they could come and finish their drinks together later. "Watch our drinks for us, doll?"

The girl nodded and waved them outside, tilting in her seat so she could see around them to stare at the stage; a mask of horror plastered firmly on her face as Dean and Clarence trailed outside to the smoking patio that was connected to the main building by a low brick wall that ran about waist height around the perimeter. Dean knew that when the bar was closed there were shutters that slid down to block off this part of the building too, but at night when the weather was nice it was a place where the smoking patrons of the bar convened to indulge in their habit that Dean himself had never even tried; perks of being an asthmatic and all. There were rain-warped dinner style tables that ran along the edges of the wall with pressed Formica making up the top and bench seats that various groups were sitting at talking, smoking, and taking surreptitious sips out of flasks that disappeared back into the assorted leather jackets and denim vests just as quickly as they had appeared.

Dean watched as Clarence pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket, holding it out to Dean briefly who just shook his head in response before placing one of the tobacco tubes between his own lips and bumming a light off a short pigtailed woman in a green plaid skirt. The punk ambled over to the wall and hopped up on its edge, swinging his legs for a moment as he surveyed the people walking past on the sidewalk outside the patio as well as his smoking companions who were engrossed in their own conversations before beckoning Dean over with a wry, twist of his smoke curled lips and a crook of his index finger. It was only then that Dean realized he was staring again and made a show of patting down his pockets and prying his phone out of his jeans so that it would look like maybe that was what had been distracting him instead of the sensuous way that Clarence moved when he walked, no damn bowing in those legs.

He glanced down at his phone and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck as he read the missed texts that had been making his phone rattle in his pocket. They were all from Sam, of course they fucking were, except for one which was from an unknown number that he assumed was Gabriel.

 **Sammy:** Dude, just remembered why I don't do relationships…drama-rama with Gabe's roomies. _[9:12pm]_

 **Sammy:** At least the girl roomie has a cool scooter. _[9:15pm]_

Dean rolled his eyes as the picture that Sam had attached of a shiny purple Honda scooter, it couldn't be more than 50cc and it was the kind of pocket rocket that annoyed him more than anything when they were driven by the other college kids who thought that having a compact vehicle made them exempt from obeying traffic laws. If he had to drive a scooter, he would pick one that was similar to his car; something sturdy and vintage and classic with enough horsepower to make his dad proud. Bob Smith had talked fondly about the Italian scooters he had seen during his military tours abroad, but Dean was pretty sure the older man would rather be caught dead than ever be seen riding one.

 **Sammy:** Also, Gabe's brother is a total hottie. Kind of a dick, but maybe that's just the family resemblance because otherwise I'm not seeing it at all. _[9:30pm]_

 **Sammy:** BK=half an hour late and counting. Karaoke is looking better and better. _[9:37pm]_

 _ **Unknown Contact:**_ Settle a debate, sidecars are/are not for bitches? I have money riding on this, Smith. Don't let me down. _[9:48pm]_

Dean chuckled at that but decided not to reply when he glanced up and saw Clarence's sharp blue eyes regarding him coolly and curiously. It was all he could do to swallow against the sudden cotton-mouth that he found himself with and not sprint to sit down next to the other man on the low brick wall; he highly doubted he could hop up there with as much grace as Clarence had been able to without ripping his pants or overshooting and falling all the way back onto the sidewalk in front of the bar on his ass. So he settled for leaning back against the brick with his elbows on the wall brushing against Clarence's thigh, the other man didn't move away from the soft touch so Dean took that as a good sign.

"You never answered my question," Clarence said beside him, smiling ruefully at the way that Dean gave a startled jump when he was reminded of exactly how deep and gravelly the other man's voice was when they weren't surrounded by speakers on all sides; he had almost forgotten. When Dean just replied with a confused frown the punk chuckled, smoke slipping out of the corners of his mouth before he fully exhaled his last drag off his cigarette though his perfectly, pink perused lips. "Is this the normal wind down routine for wayward baristas?"

He shook his head and blushed, reveling in the way that Clarence tilted his head at him as he licked his lips and idly flicked the ash off the glowing end of his cigarette; it was like he was genuinely interested in Dean and fuck, the last thing he wanted to do was disappoint him. "I'm not really a barista, y'know?"

"I kind of figured," Clarence declared, squinting in thought at him as he inhaled more smoke; Dean had never found smoking sexy until right now. "Meg said that was the shittiest latte she had ever had after you left. You're lucky she didn't say it to your face, but I think she didn't know that I had figured out what a huge cunt she was by then. My iced coffee was good though."

"Well, that's kind of hard to screw up," Dean muttered, embarrassed that it had been so obvious that he hadn't known what he was doing manning the café at BookPeople when Clarence had been there, but elated that the other man and the girl he had been with weren't a 'thing' like he had thought they were. "All I had to do was pour and put some ice in it."

"Well, it was great," Clarence declared, waving his cigarette in the air with an appearance of finality in front of him as he spoke. "Not watered down or anything. Best iced coffee ever, A++ would drink again."

Dean couldn't help but laugh at that, throwing his head back and clutching at his ribs until he caught his breath back and glanced at Clarence out of the corner of his eye. The other man was smiling widely at him, but when he noticed he was being watched the expression became less open, more coy like he hadn't been expecting to let Dean see how much his laughing had affected him. Seeing the other man's walls come down was just as provocative and alluring as the mystery that Clarence's seemingly aloof persona protected. He wanted nothing more than to see how the other man looked when he genuinely smiled or talked animatedly about something without feeling like he had to impress or came. Dean would give anything to know what Clarence looked like when he came.

"So let me guess," Clarence continued, taking another drag off of his cigarette and tapping his chin with the two fingers that were holding it, smoking curling idly up towards his eyes that were twinkling mischievously and Dean had the niggling sensation that they were familiar. Yea, he had been dreaming about those eyes practically nonstop, but still… "You're not a barista, but an investigative journalist who likes to slum it. That's why you work in coffee shops and hang out it crowded punk dive bars and ride a bike everywhere; for the experience. You're the next aspiring Lester Bangs, immersing yourself in the seedy underbelly of Austin."

He shook he head at all of it, laughing again as he did so because Clarence couldn't be more wrong about him. Dean knew that nothing about his life or what he wanted to do with it was as glamorous as the late rock critic, but the fact that Clarence seemed to think that he was that interesting looking was flattering. God, Dean only wished he could be that cool because when Clarence found out how big of a nerd he was the other man was surely going to ditch him to find someone else more his speed to talk to.

"Hmmm, guess my radar is more out of whack than I thought it was," Clarence mused, stubbing out his cigarette swiftly on the part of the brick wall next to his thigh before turning more fully to face Dean as he settled one of his legs along the ledge behind Dean's back. The punk frowned in concentration and reached out to tilt Dean's face more into the dim circle of light created by the bare bulbs that lit the smoking patio. "Let me guess again, I'm usually much better at this."

Dean smirked bemusedly, but kept his eyes locked on the blue ones that were trailing over his face; sending scorching hot marks of arousal down his spine as the soft, firm touch of Clarence's fingers at his jaw made his arms and neck break out in sudden, unexpected goose bumps. A thought occurred to him, but the idea of breaking the other man's concentration when it was focused solely on him was enough to cause Dean to make an unconscious whimper of despair at the back of his throat.

Clarence dropped his hand quickly and sat back against the brick pillar that was supporting the roof of the patio at his back. "Am I reading this wrong or something? Because if I am making you uncomfortable then I want you to tell me."

"No!" Dean shouted intending to grab the other man's hand to put it back at his face before he realized what he was doing and stopped himself. "You're just…I didn't think you had noticed me. Then or now, I'm sort of still in shock."

"Should I call an ambulance?" The other man said seriously, betraying the fact that he was joking by the small upturned quirk of the corner of his mouth. "What is it you're supposed to do for shock again? Blankets? Should I keep you awake for the next couple of hours to make sure that you have no permanent brain damage?"

Dean blew out a heavy sigh and shrugged his shoulders playfully, leaning farther back against the bricks behind him until he felt the muscled flex of Clarence's leg on his lower back. "You could start by telling me why you thought I would ride a bike anywhere unless I absolutely had to."

"OR maybe I'm not the one who hasn't been noticing things." Clarence declared after studying Dean's face for another long moment and nodding to himself about whatever it was that he had found there. "Okay okay, second guess. If I get it right, you get to buy me another beer, courtesy of your friend, the chick bartender."

"Her name is Dorothy," Dean pointed out, blushing hard under the other man's scrutiny before realizing that the first time he had seen Clarence, the punk had seen him too. So maybe the whole brown corduroy and plaid button down look wasn't as repelling as Charlie had repeatedly told him it was; take _that_ , Chuckles. "And if you don't get it right then you're gonna sing any song that I pick."

"What makes you think that I hadn't planned on singing this entire time?" Clarence asked, leaning in conspiratorially towards Dean causing the scent of the other man, a mix of smoke and musky sweat and cloves, to wash over him and make him instantly half hard. Dean didn't know if he wanted to thank God for orchestrating another encounter with the punk or curse him for making him incapable of interacting with someone so good-looking without reacting like a sexually repressed teenager. He was a sexually repressed man, damnit; he should be able to handle this. "Alright deal, but only because I have a feeling that you're going to surprise me with your song choice if I don't get it right. Anyone who sings Archers of Loaf has my immediate and undying devotion."

Dean swallowed thickly, moving his hand back behind him until it rested on the part of Clarence's leg right above his knee. The punk didn't flinch away like Dean would have from the unexpected contact, just quirked his lips at Dean's hand and crossed his arms over his chest to look at him contemplatively again; Dean watched the cords of muscle move on the other man's forearms and tried to force the thought of how easily the punk could manhandle him with those miraculous muscles out of his head so that maybe his erection would calm the fuck down already.

"Okay, you're a…student." Clarence started slowly, humming softly to himself as he thought and tapped at his lips with the index finger of his right hand. "You're studying….literature and that's why you work at a bookstore. You're obviously not a barista or at least you don't want to be one because otherwise Meg wouldn't have complained about her latte. Then again she could have just been being a bitch because I complimented you for that awesome Jets to Brazil shirt you were wearing. In fact, I bet your latte was goddamn delicious and she was just being a dick, I'm still trying to slowly dodge that misspent bullet. Girl can't take a fucking hint, y'know?"

He didn't know, Dean never had anyone who wanted him and the feeling of it now, when he was more than fairly certain that Clarence did indeed want him, was heady and intoxicating and almost overwhelming. Dean didn't know what part of his soul he had to sell to make the other man's attention stay on him forever, but he was willing to give it all up if that was the cost. But being the smartass that he was, Dean had never been one turn down correcting someone when they were wrong.

"I'm studying business," Dean said softly, causing Castiel to chuckle low in his throat and shrug ruefully at himself in an 'oh, well' sort of way before slinging his leg over Dean's body and hopping down off the brick wall.

Clarence held out his hand towards Dean as he stood, the new tattoo of the dagger standing out stark on his forearm even in the poor light and the haze of smoke around them. "Never let it be said that I'm not a man of my word, Dean. Now, I'm not promising Sinatra or anything, but I will try my best not to butcher the song you pick."

"So you hadn't been planning on singing?" Dean asked, reaching out cautiously to take the punk's hand, smiling softly when Clarence threaded their fingers together and pulled him in close and snug against his firm chest. Dean wasn't going to sigh like a girl, but damn he had never wanted to do so more in his life than he did right then.

"I didn't say that," Clarence explained lowly, settling his other hand on Dean's hip and studying his reaction as the larger man felt a cautious thumb graze over his hipbone near the belt that Charlie had lent him for the evening. "I'm just putting the decision of what I'm going to sing into your capable hands. And it doesn't matter what you pick, I'll be singing to you the whole time anyway, Mr. Businessman."

Okay, he had to sigh at that because really? That was probably the most romantic fucking thing he had ever heard in his whole life. Dean suddenly had an urge to know what kind of song Clarence would pick to sing for him if the choice was his own; there a lot of punk songs about drinking and partying, but he also knew there were just as many about heartbreak and crushes and falling in love. Maybe Clarence had been hearing one of those songs on repeat in his head ever since he had first seen Dean in is geeky clothes sweating on Sam's bike, just like Dean had heard nothing but love songs everywhere he went for those first few weeks after seeing Clarence. Maybe all of this wasn't as one-sided and extraordinary as he thought it was.

"How 'bout this?" Dean said, swallowing hard and giving into the urge he had to put his hand free hand on Clarence's chest as they stood close. He could feel the other man's heartbeat strong and sure through the thin material of his t-shirt and the warmth of such close contact helped reassure him that this wasn't all some overly elaborate dream of some sort. "You can still pick a song and I'll have a beer waiting for you when you get done?"

"But I lost," Clarence argued softly, leaning in close until his breath was ghosting over Dean's face and he instinctively shut his eyes even though he wanted to see every single fucking move the punk made so he could describe it in glorious detail to Charlie and Dor later; Sam would just make fun of him for being overly romantic and sentimental, but something about this felt important and he couldn't ignore that even though the sensations of having another person that close and wanting him back were overwhelming.

"Pick a song to sing and sing it just for me," Dean murmured, letting out a soft surprised moan when he felt the other man's hand tug firmly on his hip until their lips brushed together.

It was soft and tentative, less intense than Dean had been expecting from the dangerous looking punk that had first caught his eye, but the rasp of Clarence's stubble against his chin and the way teeth grazed unexpected and sharp against his bottom lips as the other man pulled away made Dean shudder from the promise that Clarence was giving him of more later. Jesus, he didn't even know anything about the other man, but he couldn't find it in himself to care.

"Can do," Clarence promised softly into his ear before tugging Dean quickly back into the building and snatching their now warm beers off of the ledge inside the door.

The punk gave him a playful swat on his ass and pushed him gently in the direction of the bar before heading towards where Benny was talking to the house band with excited gestures and a lot of loud booming laughs. Dean let himself watch the other man walk away before grimacing at the overly sour taste of the beer he had just sipped and tossing the half-full bottle into a trash can as he passed, writing it off as a lost cause when he spotted Dor's artfully curled pin-up hair-do bobbing around behind the bar again.

"Honeybear, where have you been?!" Dor shouted to him, leaning over the bar to give one of his cheeks a quick pinch before going back to pouring a line of tequila shots and doling them out to a group of excited frat boys at the opposite end of the bar.

He grinned to himself as she ambled back towards him, wiping her hands on the short black apron that she wore to keep her bar-key close when she was working. Dor arched an eyebrow at his expression and Dean just shook his head, gesturing with his hands and mouthing 'later' at her in lieu of an explanation when he was still trying to convince himself that all of this was real. She seemed to understand because she just nodded and grabbed him another beer from the bucket of ice in front of her and smoothly popped the cap before handing it over with a jut of her chin behind him.

"Sam and his new boyfriend showed up," Dor explained leaning across the bar again so he could hear her as she talked while the band started tuning up behind him. "They brought Gabe's sour-faced fucking roommate with them, supposedly she's much nicer when she's drunk so I'm trying to help them out with that. Take them her vodka and sprite, will ya?"

He nodded and took the small proffered cup before turning in the direction that Dor had indicated; he could just barely see Sam towering over the crowd and he was pretty sure he spotted a shock of red hair bouncing along excitedly beside the other man. Dean glanced at the stage as he shouldered his way toward them and saw Clarence talking with the girl guitarist enthusiastically before the punk gave her a swift kiss on the cheek as she held out her sticker covered instrument towards him. His heart gave a lurch at the sight of the kiss, wondering if Clarence was just as careful when he kissed other people as he had been when he had kissed Dean, before he remembered that the punk had kissed the elusive Meg in the same way. Someone he obviously didn't like if calling her a cunt was any indication so maybe it was just the other man's way of showing thanks, Dean sure as hell hoped it was.

Dean reached his friends just as Clarence finished adjusting the strap and tuning the unfamiliar guitar, smiling at the other men as they loudly greeted him with slaps on the back and a raucous, inebriated chorus of cheers. Obviously Sam and Gabe had been drinking for a lot longer or a lot faster than Dean had been doing since reaching Red7, but he just smiled at their enthusiasm and shrugged off the apologizes they had for missing him sing as Charlie praised him at his side.

"Um, this is for a disgruntled roommate," Dean said sheepishly, holding up the sweating plastic cup of vodka and fizzy soda for the girl he had yet to place as Gabe's roommate amongst the teeming masses of people surrounding them.

"Yea, that's me," A snappish voice said from behind Sam, an elbow appearing to dig sharply into the taller man's ribs to nudge him out of the way to reveal the frowning face of a short brunette. The same short brunette who had a tattoo of a dark rose on the side of her neck and blunt bangs framing her glowering face as she regarded Dean with a petulant roll of her eyes and an impatient stomp of her small foot on the sticky floor. "Jesus fucking Christ, can I have my fucking drink already, moron? And what the fuck is boy blunder doing up on stage, Gabe? You should put a fucking bell on him or something so that we don't lose him anymore. Should have known he'd end up here, lots of easy lays with low self-esteem floating around on karaoke night."

"Hey!" Charlie said, defensively. "My girlfriend is comping your fucking drinks you know? She only works in this joint, maybe show a little gratitude?"

"Whatever," Meg mumbled, glaring at Clarence who was finishing a soft conversation with the rest of the band before spinning back towards the microphone and putting his hand up to shield his eyes against the lights so he could see into the crowd.

"Hey it _is_ , Cassie!" Gabriel exclaimed, standing on tiptoe so that he could sling an arm around Sam's shoulder and hoist himself up a bit over the taller people standing in front of him. "Go, baby bro!"

"Well at least he's in a better mood now," Sam mused softly enough that Dean could only just hear it over the buzzing mess of white noise that was starting to block out everything else around him. "Glad to see at the Ritchie business isn't making him feel too guilty."

"Not his fault the guy skipped out on the rest of his lease," Gabe replied, wincing when the feedback from Clarence standing too close to the amp caused an ear splitting screech. "Well, maybe it is a bit, but hey! Look at him! Castiel only plays when he has someone to impress, wonder who caught his eye in this crowd."

"Uh, sorry about that," Clarence, Castiel, Cassie, what? Dean was so fucking confused and he felt like his throat was closing up even as the ice cold bottle of beer he was holding for the punk started to make his hand go numb. "Been a while since I played, I like to thank Krissy for trusting me with her guitar, firstly. You're my hero and secondly, this song is for Dean. I hope you like it."

"Oh shit," Sam cursed, turning towards Dean with a knowing look on his face as the opening strains of the song started and Castiel leaned into the notes with his whole body; watching his own fingers move on the fret board with a secretive smirk on his face. "This is the guy? No fucking way!"

"Been staring for a hundred hours, run down a spiral drain. Keep mouth clamped tight and it isn't right," Castiel began, shutting his eyes as he sang a song that Dean recognized because it was Blake fucking Schwarzenbach and he knew everything by the man. "Three words keep running 'round my mind, but my tongue is hard to find. I need to let it go, because I know…"

Jawbreaker had never been a favorite of his, but this song was one of the ones he liked; knew at least the chorus by heart even before the punk on stage sang it in a deep, throaty timbre that rivaled the seasoned frontman's unique voice.

"Dark secrets burn their vessel tearing out to grab a mouthful chunk of heart destroyed by quiet  
yell it out before it kills you now. Let it all out." Castiel took a deep breath and opened his eyes, Dean felt like the cerulean blue orbs were looking right at him, piercing him right down the core and all the burgeoning hope that he could feel building with each word the other man sang. " I-e-I-e-I, I-e-I-e-I, I want you."

He knew that Castiel couldn't see him, but Gabe was looking back and forth between the two of them with a curious if slightly drunken expression on his face and it was taking everything Dean had not to cry over how perfect his roommate's boyfriend's brother was. Because nothing he had heard about Castiel had been good and even though everything he had seen about the other man so far didn't match up to the insensitive, inconsiderate, prick that Gabe had described his younger brother as being, it still scared him how much he wanted this even if Castiel did end up being that person. Maybe as much as Castiel wanted him…hopefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> olla! Deancas kiss! Don't worry there will be more fluffish stuff and sorry for the use of the C-word, it is by far my least favorite curse worse, but I've been called that enough times to know the kind of venom that someone puts behind it. Cas really does not like Meg in this fic (sorry Megstiel shippers) Read, review and I'll appreciate it forever!


	6. at some point, someone does something that makes you sit up and pay attention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I thought you an' I'd already settled the roles in the fucker/fuckee relationship! I guess I thought wrong!”― Garth Ennis, _Preacher: Gone to Texas_

Dean expected things to get weird, mostly because this was a weird situation and Sam was staring at him with an amused expression on his face while Gabriel just leaned against the taller man looking like he had just been confronted with a particularly challenging zipper that he couldn't figure out. He expected it to be weird because after Meg asked rather loudly who the fuck Dean was and Charlie pointed him out to her, the smaller woman hadn't stopped glaring daggers at him for even a millisecond. But it wasn't weird, it was dreamlike and wonderful and so much more than he had imagined his evening being forced out of the house to be that Dean didn't even get mad when Dor sidled up with more drinks for everyone as Cas sang and pinched him hard on the squishy back of his bicep because it was enough of a shock to reassure him that this was actually his life.

It was a little surreal though because no one had ever sang to him before and it was giving him all kinds of butterflies seeing Castiel up on stage, sweating under the spotlights like he belonged there. So when the punk handed Krissy back her guitar and jumped smoothly off the front of the stage instead of taking the stairs, pushing his way through the crowd in the general direction that Dean was standing in as men and women alike tried to stop Castiel to talk to him, Dean didn't know if he wanted to bolt now that the thing he wanted was staring him straight in the face or drag the other man off to the closest darkened corner and let Cas fuck him into the wall. Needless to say, when the punk pulled him in for a bruising, sweaty kiss once he finally got to him Dean was having more than a few conflicting emotions.

"I think I'm gonna hurl," A female voice declared just as Dean was starting to catalogue all of the creases in the full curve of Castiel's bottom lip with his tongue, lamenting the fact that the other man wasn't wearing his lip ring and wondering if it would be too weird if he asked the Cas to put the piercing back in.

Castiel broke the kiss and Dean tried very hard to keep the petulant whine of protest from bursting out of his throat because he had had more than one guy tell him that it was off-putting that he was a needy little musclebound wannabe twink when they had thought that he would be the one pushing them around in the bedroom. And god, did he ever want to get Cas to his bedroom sometime in the near to immediate future. He licked his tender lips and watched as the punk lifted one of his hands from where it was gripping his hip and when had that happened anyway? Not that he minded at all, Cas could put that hand right back there whenever he wanted to. Fuck he could superglue it there and Dean was pretty sure he would be pretty hard pressed to care. Anyway, holding back the smile when Castiel lifted his hand to cooly flip off Meg who was grimacing several feet away from them from where she stood on the other side of Sam was not something that he felt like he had to do; especially when Charlie and Gabe immediately burst out laughing.

"Yeah, well fuck all you guys too," Meg replied snidely, turning on her heel and pushing her way towards the bar even as Gabriel tried to call for her to stop through the chuckles that were stealing his breath.

"I better go after her," Castiel mumbled apologetically, giving Dean's hip a squeeze before he started to move away after the other girl.

"What? Why?" Dean asked quickly, snagging the punk's wrist as the other man's wonderfully lithe body steeped away. "I thought you didn't like her."

"I don't like her," the other man agreed, running his hand up Dean's arm until he could give his elbow a reassuring squeeze. "But that doesn't mean I want to see her wrap her scooter around a telephone pole because she's pissed and trying to drive drunk."

"You've been drinking," Dean pointed out, hoping he didn't sound like some worried old lady because it would be just his luck that something would happen to Cas now that he had found him again.

"Oh Dean, it's gonna take a lot more than a couple of beers to make it so that I can't putter around on a scooter. I'm gonna put her in a cab, gorgeous. Don't worry your pretty little head. I'll be right back."

Castiel stepped over to Gabriel and Charlie, spoke in hushed tones for a few seconds and then tossed one last heated look over his shoulder at Dean before slipping back off into the crowd after Meg who apparently couldn't stop ruining his fucking life. Dean couldn't help but pout a little bit, feeling more and more childish with each passing second as he sipped on the beer that he had gotten for Cas before agitatedly shoving a hand through his hair, adjusting his glasses, and stomping over to where Dor and Sam were talking in low whispers.

"No, but Gabe told me he doesn't play anymore. Not since Denver and Da-oh hey, Dean! What are the odds, right buddy?" Sam asked, swaying slightly on his feet as he slug a heavy arm around Dean's shoulders and leaned his large frame down to scream whisper at him. It was loud enough that Dean was pretty sure everyone within a five foot radius would be able to hear Sam despite the band having started another song. "Your mystery guy turning out to be Gabe's brother? Y'know I thought he looked a bit familiar when he and Meg showed up to Stubb's, but I don't watch as much porn as you so it didn't like click right away, yea?"

"Can you keep your voice down?" Dean hissed, glancing around to see if Cas had chosen the most embarrassing moment of his life to pop back up again because that was just his luck. "And I don't watch that much fucking porn, okay?"

"I don't know, Dean," Dorothy said, pushing herself up onto her tiptoes using Sam's shoulder so that she could see over the crowd that was steadily thinning out to check on her coworker at the bar. "You do get a lot of unmarked packages delivered to the house. Thin boxes...do we need to stage an intervention?"

"They're comic books!" Dean exclaimed before burying his face in his hands and letting out a groan. "I order old variant covers online, it's not porn. Normal people don't pay for porn."

"Well now you won't," Sam teased, reaching up to give Dean a noogie that landed more on the side of his head than on top because the larger man was definitely drunk. "If he's related to Gabe at all then no porn will ever measure up to the real thing if you know what I mean."

"Ugh, gross," Dor said, dropping back down to the balls of her feet and crinkling her nose disgustedly at Sam who just shrugged and took another swig out of his beer bottle; making a lewd gesture with the container as Gabe sauntered up beside him waggling his eyebrows.

"What did I miss?" Gabriel asked, letting out a shriek that had all of the heads in the bar turning in their direction when Sam suddenly swept the smaller man into a kiss; spilling what was left of his beer on the floor as he dipped Gabe down low towards the floor.

Dean just rolled his eyes at the two of them as they earned wolf whistles and cat calls from a few of the more inebriated patrons in the bar, not because he was jealous in the slightest. Though really if it wasn't for Meg being dramatic than he could be pressed up against a wall right now with the most gorgeous pair of lips that he had ever seen attached to his neck. He didn't even know her, but he already really really didn't like her.

"Amateurs," A gravelly voice said behind him before a pair of arms wrapped around Dean's waist and he was hauled back a few staggering steps until he collided with the solid warmth of someone's chest. The smell of sweat and cigarettes flooded his senses, making him shiver just as much as the teeth that grazed his earlobe did as Castiel continued to speak softly against his skin. "Don't worry, Gabe secretly loves being the center of attention. 'S why he's so damn loud all the time. I wouldn't wish hearing him have sex on anyone, it's really traumatizing."

"Hmm, not looking forward to those sleepovers," Dean replied, putting one of his hands over the one that Castiel was using to trace abstract patterns on his abdomen; the other was settled firmly on his hip again, the tips of the other man's fingers toying with the hem of his borrowed shirt. "I was hoping Sam would have this out of his system before I got back from South Dakota; at least Charlie and Dor have the good grace to be quiet when other people are home."

"Want to give them a run for their money?" Castiel asked lowly, pressing his lips chastely into the pulse point on Dean's neck; Dean could feel the other man smiling into his skin and let out out a heavy sigh so that he wouldn't dig his nails into the back of the other man's hand. "We could show them what a mind-blowing orgasm actually sounds like…"

"I'm...uh...shit, Cas," Dean started, trying to make his tongue work even though it felt heavy and cumbersome in his mouth. He wasn't sure he had ever given anyone an orgasm to write home about; he'd been told he gave a pretty good blow job once, but that was probably about it. There was no way he was experienced enough to keep up with the punk who had two people already fighting over him: Gabe's roommates, Meg and…whoever the fuck else Gabe's other roommate was.

"Hmmm, shy." Castiel declared simply, Dean felt the punk's chin settle on his shoulder and he wondered if the other man could read between his stutters and see how shy and hopeless he really was. Hands pressed firmly on his hip and abdomen until he could feel the other man's pelvis flush against his backside, the telltale hardness of an erection there and then gone in the amount of time that it took for his own pants to feel six sizes smaller than they already did. "I like shy."

Dean cleared his throat and shifted his weight to his other foot, hoping that it would ease some of the pressure that was being caused by the inseam of his new jeans pressing snugly against his cock that was valiantly fighting a losing battle against the stiff material. He tried to think of some way to reply that wasn't him just wantonly dragging the punk out to the backseat of his car and ripping his clothes off. He had been a valedictorian for Christsakes, he was supposed to be more articulate than the quivering mass of incoherent need that the other man had reduced him to with just a couple of words. But about the time he realized that he wasn't, was when Sam finally let Gabe up for air; lips swollen and mustache mussed with a self-satisfied smile on his face as the smaller man looked around at the assembled group that he assumed wrongly was paying all of their attention to him.

"So, I've worked up an appetite," Gabriel declared, running a hand through Sam's hair in an effort to straighten the taller man's floppy locks while ignoring his own that was sticking up in several startling directions. "Kerbey Lane anyone?"

"Well now that we've ditched the angry muchkin," Charlie piped from where Dor had wrapped her up in a hug too, fingers absently trailing through her short red head and as her eyelids drooped sleepily. "I could go for some Kerbey queso. What do you think babes?"

"As long as I can get some coffee, I'm in," the bartender mumbled sleepily against Charlie's collarbone. "I'll tell Arseface that I'm leaving. That jerk had me running drinks all night like a waitress, my feet hurt."

"Aww it's those shoes!" Charlie admonished, tugging the other girl towards her co-worker that was just leaning on the bar again talking to a girl who looked completely bored and disinterested.

"Preacher," Dean muttered under his breath, catching the comic book reference that Dor made and agreeing; the other bartender was not an attractive man in the slightest.

"What was that?" Castiel asked, moving so that he just had one arm wrapped around Dean's waist; the causal point of contact sending trills of desire down Dean's spine because the other man's thumb had worked it's way under his shirt and was rubbing softly against the skin he'd found there.

"Nothing," Dean replied quickly, giving Castiel a wide smile that he hoped didn't look too guilty. The other man already knew he was a spaz, no reason to let him know that he was a nerd who liked comic books and superheroes and action figures too. "Did you want to go eat?"

"I'm gonna have to drive Meg's scooter," Cas replied sounding put upon, but all Dean could picture was the other man in a leather jacket riding on a roaring motorcycle; his mom had always hated motorcycles. "She'd kill me if it got towed."

"Yea, especially now that you've found something worth living for," Gabriel teased, batting his eyelashes at his younger brother only to have his expression fall so fast that it took Dean a second to realize that Cas had punched the other man in the arm and even then it was only the smirk of triumph that the punk had on his face that gave him away. "Ow, that hurt jerk."

"Bitch," Castiel replied evenly, arching an eyebrow at his brother who had turned towards Sam for consolation. "Seriously, are we going or what? I'm have to follow you guys since I have no idea where I'm going."

"Dean's driving us," Sam declared quickly, fishing into Gabriel's pocket to pull out a small ring of keys attached to a bright orange rabbit's foot keychain. "I'll tell Charlie and Dor to meet us there in Baby. I'm sure after some gingerbread pancakes I'll be good to drive us home and you can ride back to the house with Charlie and Dor. I'm gonna stay at Gabe's tonight."

"Great," Cas said sarcastically. "I guess I'll just smother myself with the couch cushions than."

"Start paying rent and you can complain about the noise," Gabriel snapped, glancing up at Sam when the larger man shook him gently by his shoulder. "What?! It's not like I don't have to cover Ritchie's part of the rent now because of his and Meg's bullsh-"

"Ritchie and I already figured that out," the punk interrupted, his hand still on Dean's hip as his voice dropped lower when he leaned into whisper to Gabriel. It was only because the band had started to pack up that Dean was able to hear what Cas was saying at all. "Can we just talk about it at home?"

It was the first time that Dean had heard the other man be anything besides sure and confident and cocky, it added a whole nother layer of depth to Castiel to see him so so hesitant. Dean thought that the almost vulnerability was just as attractive on the other man as the bravado and brashness; he wanted to see every single part of Cas that he could so that he could try to figure out the puzzle of the punk before Cas got bored of him. God, he was already in too deep and falling too fast for this to not end up scaring the other man away.

"Yea, Cassie," Gabriel said softly, looking meaningfully between Castiel and Dean as he reached out to pat his younger brother on the forearm before tugging Sam off towards the exit where the other bar patrons were steadily filing out of the building. "C'mon boys, I need some cheese in my life that actually came from a cow right now. If you're staying with me Cas, we're going to gang up on Meg about how she polices the grocery shopping. I can't do much more of this gluten-free, animal byproduct free, healthy choice bullshit."

Dean felt Castiel's arm move smoothly across his lower back and down to his hand so that the punk could lace their fingers together loosely as they followed Sam and Gabe towards the exit, stopping long enough to relay the plan to Dor and Charlie and for Dean to hand over the keys to his car to the bartender who was one of probably five people that were not his family that he trusted to drive his Baby.

He had been expecting it to be weird earlier, much earlier when Meg was still there and would surely causing a screaming scene because Cas had kissed him in front of her, but it didn't get weird until it was just him and Sam and Gabe in the smaller man's beat up Nissan. They went slow enough that Cas could keep up with them on Meg's purple pocket rocket and the radio was muttering too softly to make up for the silence that was hanging in the still, tepid air of the car, but Gabe had purposefully turned it down when they got in the car and Dean felt like it wasn't his place to turn it back up since it wasn't his vehicle.

"Gabe come on," Sam sighed from the backseat, flopping forward over the center console so that he could lean his head on the back of the older man's seat. "Just tell him what you told me, he deserves to know."

"Which part, Sammy?" Gabe asked turning in his seat until he could face Dean's roommate, glancing nervously at Dean with an apologetic smile on his face as he spoke in hushed whispers that might as well have been screams in the close quietness of the car. "The part where Cas hasn't touched an instrument before tonight since Denver and that was almost two years ago or the part where he doesn't stay in one place for longer than six months? Sorry, Deano. If I had known that Cas was the guy that you'd been mooning over I would've told you that it wasn't worth the heartache."

Dean carefully cleared his throat and glanced in the rearview mirror at the single headlight that was Cas on Meg's scooter following them the short distance to Kerbey Lane Cafe that was open 24 hours and just down the street from the UT campus. He had kind of sort of already resolved himself to the fact that whatever might happen with the punk who he had been fantasizing about would probably be just a one time thing or if he was lucky enough to spend more than one night with Cas it probably wouldn't be anything that he could count on to become a long term relationship.

But as much as the thought of eventually, probably sooner rather than later, not having Cas around hurt; he had also promised Charlie and Dor and Sam and even his fucking sister that he would start living in the moment whenever he could. He didn't even know the other man and already the choice between having what time he could get or not having any at all was settled as far as he was concerned. What was the old saying? Tis better to have loved and lost and blahblahblah sadness. He was going to take what he could get and worry about the fallout of everything later.

"I mean Cas has never been much for relationships or anything, but if you're willing t-"

"I get it Gabe," Dean cut off, twisting the wheel sharply so that he wouldn't miss the turn in for the Kerbey Lane parking lot off of Guadalupe Street. He saw the single headlight behind him pass by and figured that he had probably not given Cas enough room to follow him so the other man was circling the block; he hoped that the punk hadn't already decided that it wasn't worth the risk of Dean pathetically falling in love with him so he would find someone nameless to fuck instead. "I'm a big boy, I can take care of myself. I appreciate the concern."

"Dean, I think what Gabe means-"Sam began, stopping with a frown when Dean pulled into the first empty parking lot he spotted before slamming the car into park and clambering out of the car as quickly as possible.

"I get it, Sam." Dean snapped, tossing Gabriel his keys back as Castiel motored into the parking lot, his perturbed expression brightening when he saw Dean quickly striding across the parking lot as fast as his bow legs would carry him. He could turn his brain off just for one night, right? Fuck the consequences, he'd worry about them in the morning. "Hey Cas! You can come back to my place if you don't want to sleep on a couch tonight."

* * *

Dor and Charlie never showed up to the restaurant and on any other occasion Dean might be worried about them and his car; fretting about whether or not his two friends were bleeding out in a ditch while secretly hoping they had just decided to hightail it off somewhere where they could get married already. Neither of the two girls had any family left to disapprove of the union so Dean and Sam had started a pool at BookPeople to see how long they would hold off on the holy matrimony front just because it wasn't legal in Texas. But he wasn't worried about Charlie and Dor because they had texted him halfway through his Greek chicken salad at Kerbey Lane to let him know that they were just going to head back to Dor's apartment since Charlie was too drunk to drive and Dor just wanted to go to sleep already.

He was thankful, he understood, and he just really really hoped that his hands didn't shake too much as he put his phone away when he realized that would leave him and Cas alone in the house all night. The punk had been sipping at the water he had ordered and picking croutons out of Dean's salad, declaring the stale bread morsels the only part of the whole thing that was worth eating since it wasn't 'rabbit food'. He had offered to buy the other man a burger or something, but Cas had just smirked at him and shaken his head; throwing one of the chips that had come with the queso appetizer at Gabriel when it looked like his older brother was about to say something. The punk's right hand had rested on Dean's leg, just above his knee with Cas's fingers caressing the inside of his thigh teasingly enough that Dean had almost said 'fuck it' and just dragged the other man off to the bathroom so they could at least have some semblance of privacy.

"Are you coming?" Castiel asked patiently, ignoring his brother who was blowing kisses at Dean and Cas as Sam dragged him off towards the Nissan. "I have a helmet you can wear if you want, it's also purple and glittery, but Meg hasn't sprung for a passenger helmet yet. She's pretty hellbent on getting a sidecar too, but I keep telling her that-"

"Sidecars are for bitches," Dean finished, wishing that the surprised smirk that settled on Castiel's face didn't cause his breath to catch in his chest in a way that wasn't just arousal. God, why couldn't this be more than a one night stand? "You must be a big _Garden State_ fan, huh?"

"Yea, its an okay movie I guess," Castiel said quickly, climbing onto the scooter and turning so that he could rifle out the helmet from the hard plastic carrying case that was attached to the back of the moped. Dean watched as he pulled out a helmet that matched the dark purple paint of the scooter, flecks of silver glitter glowing faintly in the lights of the parking lot and Kerbey Lane's neon sign. "You gonna own the glitter, Dean? I think at least one of us is supposed to, but I promise I won't crash or anything."

"I bet I can own this at least as well as you own your eyeliner," Dean quipped back, snatching the helmet away from the other man as he fought to keep his knees from melting under the force of the punk's teasing smile. He snapped the clip under his chin and straddled the scooter behind Cas, placing his hands softly over the other man's shoulders; letting out a heavy breath in an effort to slow the beating of his heart when the punk turned to look back at him and he felt the sinewy muscles move underneath his hands.

"You're gonna have to hold on tighter than that," Cas explained, reaching up and gently moving Dean's hand down until his arms were wrapped around the punk's waist.

Dean had no choice but to move closer with his chest pressed against Castiel's back in order to accommodate how tightly his arms were circled around the other man. He tried not to be tense because really pressing up against Cas was all that he had wanted to do all night, but Dean didn't want the punk to feel how hard his heart was beating against his back; the last thing he wanted to do at this point was scare the other man off.

"Don't be scared," Castiel said lowly, nudging up the kickstand on the scooter with his Converse clad foot before turning the key to start the motorbike. "I'm a much better driver than Meg is, but hold on as tight as you need to. You're not going to hurt me and I swear I don't bite, well...unless you want me to I guess."

Dean was just happy that the whimper that slipped out of his throat probably got lost in the droning buzz of the scooter and the wind whipping around them as Cas picked his feet up and drove them out of the parking lot. He had explained how to get to his house before they left the restaurant and the punk had vocalized the usual jealousy that most people did when they found out that Dean lived right behind Cheapo's along with the the much less usual jealousy when Gabe added that unlike his own house, Dean and Sam's had a large yard that separated them from their closest neighbors; an older couple who both had hearing aids and rarely complained about the times when loud music or sex noises came from the house full of college students beside them.

Dean had blushed and stammered under the punk's amused gaze, but it was nothing compared to the way he was blushing now that he had free reign to run his hands over Castiel's chest with the perfect excuse to write it off as being scared when the punk took the turns and drove up the steep hill that led to Dean's house. It was underhanded and a little skeevy, but he wanted to touch as much of the other man as he could get before the tentative permission that he had to do so was taken away from him.

Castiel's breath was hot and uneven against his neck as Dean fumbled for the keys to his front door, the feeling of the other man's sure hands gripping at his hips from behind making him wish that they were inside already and wearing less clothes. He was hard, mostly from being pressed up against other man during the drive over and breathing in the heady, intoxicating scent of sweat and stale cigarettes that clung to Castiel's skin; a smell that shouldn't have been as much of a turn on as it was, but that didn't change the fact that the possessive gestures and teasing comments had him just as much on edge as Castiel's appearance and smell did. Dean prided himself on not being shallow, that that didn't mean that he wasn't appreciative of how the punk looked in his tight jeans or the power that it felt like Cas was just barely restraining in the hands that had been lingering on his body all night; power that Dean felt as soon as he had taken Meg's helmet off while he was locking the door behind him after ushering Cas inside.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Castiel muttered under his breath, spinning Dean around and pinning him to the door as his body pressed flush against him followed immediately by the other man's lips colliding against Dean's when he gasped out his surprise. There was no teasing this time, only the slide of a tongue against his own, the clack of something foreign and hard against his bottom teeth, and a the sharp sting of teeth catching his bottom lip again when Cas pulled away after a minute to let them both drag in a gasping breath. "Sorrysorry, you just have no idea how much I've wished we weren't around other people all night. Normally I don't care who sees, but I didn't want you to freak out since you're so shy and just, fuck. I want you so bad, Dean. Couldn't stop thinking about you, all those months."

"Me too," Dean agreed breathlessly, tugging the punk quickly back into another kiss so that he could more thoroughly enjoy the way the other man tasted like beer and smoke and a whole world that he was getting this stolen glimpse of because Cas was way too cool for him and the other man was bound to figure that out soon. "Want you too."

Castiel groaned into Dean's mouth and ground their hips together harshly, the metal studs on their respective belts clanking together like ringing church bells in the stillness of the house that was echoing with their panting breaths and muffled curses. The punk started pulling Dean deeper into the house, breaking his mouth away just long enough to start trailing bites down the jut of Dean's jaw and over the sensitive skin on his neck; kissing away the sting that he left behind almost tenderly as they stumbled towards the darkened outline of the couch that was underneath a set of bay windows that faced the small wooded area behind the house.

The punk followed Dean down as he stumbled back into the couch, sitting down heavily on the worn cushions with an exhaled curse that was swallowed as Castiel brought his lips back to Dean's, cupping his face with his hands and straddling his hips so that they could keep kissing while they unconsciously rocked together; seeking friction against each other with instinctual rolls of their hips. Dean felt like he was being engulfed by the other man as Castiel's fingers moved from his face to grip his hair and his shoulder, rubbing over his chest through the fabric of his t-shirt; the smell and the taste addictive and wonderful and not nearly enough. He could still feel that Cas was restraining himself, the muscles on the other man's back tight and quivering under his hands where he had finally, finally pushed up the punk's shirt enough to touch his skin.

"Tell me what you want," Castiel breathed, pausing as he spoke to pepper kisses over Dean's cheeks; carefully avoiding smudging his glasses with his nose or his mouth. "What do you like? Anything, Dean. Just tell me."

"I uh, oh god, um...this?" Dean croaked, finding his voice when the other pulled back far enough away that Dean could focus on how Cas's blue eyes were shining in the moonlight coming in from the window; it did nothing to calm how hard his heart was beating. "This is good. I just want to touch you and...this is all happening so fast-"

"We can slow down," Castiel said quickly, smoothing his hands over Dean's shirt once before he let out a shaky sigh and dropped them back to his own lap. "If that's what you want, but I've got to tell you I'm complete shit with romance and relationships and-"

"This doesn't have to be serious, Cas," Dean blurted, instantly wishing that the words were back in his mouth when the punk tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at him shrewdly; that was supposed to be the Cas's line and he had just stolen it simply because it would hurt less if he was the one who said it first.

"That's what you want then?" Castiel asked evenly, reaching out to skim a finger over the hem of Dean's t-shirt that had inched up to reveal a thin strip of his stomach. "Unserious?"

"Unserious," Dean agreed, biting his lip when the other man's finger trailed lower to touch his skin before hooking teasingly on the fabric to pull it higher up his chest; revealing the tan that he got from reluctantly laying out on their back porch with Sam and Dor along with the muscles he had from winning the genetic lottery and only putting in the most minimal effort ever.

The few guys that he had been with had commented on how unfair it was that he was so good looking without having to work for it like they did, Dean hadn't ever known how to reply to that particular backhanded compliment and tried to make up for it by being everything else they expected him to be in bed. He didn't like topping, it felt like too much pressure; made him feel the same kind of stress that he associated with school and homework. He wanted to make it good for the other person, to make absolutely certain that he didn't hurt them and often he was thinking too much to actually get off himself. What? Guys could fake orgams too.

But Dean never knew how to bring up the fact that he craved giving up the constant, rigid control that he had had over every other aspect of his life since gradeschool to someone who he wasn't sure he was going to spend the rest of his life with. He wanted to meet someone that he trusted enough to be able to let go and just know that the person he was with cared about whether or not he was enjoying sex, cared enough to listen when he told them what he liked and not get disappointed or angry. He didn't know why he wanted someone to take care of him so badly, it wasn't like he had ever been denied anything growing up, but he did know that it wasn't a submission thing. Dean didn't want to be someone's pet or get off to the thought of a dom telling him when to stand or kneel or suck them off; not that he judged it just wasn't his thing. Jo told him that he was probably just a bossy bottom and he still had no idea why his little sister knew so fucking much about gay sex when he sometimes felt like he knew absolutely nothing.

"You're looking serious," Castiel murmured, smoothing his hands over the skin that he had exposed with a fond smile on his face before he started gently tugging the shirt over Dean's head. "The cure for seriousness is not wearing so many clothes. Clothes make you serious."

"Says the guy who's fully dressed," Dean replied once his face was free of his shirt and he had adjusted his glasses where they had gotten knocked slightly off his nose.

"Good point," Cas replied thoughtfully, shifting on Dean's hips until he heard two solid clunks that were the punk's sneakers hitting the wooden floor of the living room.

The other man smiled mischievously before reaching behind his back and pulling his own shirt over his head, tossing the material over his shoulder as he ducked back down to catch Dean's lips again in a kiss. Dean just got a glimpse of it in the dim light, but there was dark ink there, just like he had imagined, scribed on on the skin just below Castiel's ribs and directly over his heart and more curving slightly over his shoulders; that was just the glimpse he got, but Dean saw enough to make him whimper and buck his hips up into the punk's when his cock pulsed painfully in his tight jeans.

He felt Castiel smile against his mouth, flicking his tongue out to tease Dean's as he pulled away before going back to kissing on his neck; nibbling on his ear and sucking hard enough at the tendons that Dean was sure there would probably be dark bruises marking his skin in the morning. Sam and Charlie would see that he had gotten lucky and be happy for him, people at work would know what he had been up to and whisper about how scandalous and unprofessional it was; Dean did not give one single flying fuck if Cas left hickeys all over his neck and chest because it meant that he could look in the mirror and trace the outlines of the bruises long after the other man had hightailed it out of town again or gotten bored of him.

The cool bite of metal contrasted against the wet heat of Castiel's tongue mapping it's way across his collarbones and down his pecs, shocking Dean into letting out a ragged gasping apology when his nails sunk sharply into the skin of the punk's shoulder blades.

"S-ssorry," Dean stuttered, smoothing the flat of his palms against the other man's back and causing Castiel to chuckled into his skin where the punk's mouth hovered tantalizingly close to his right nipple. "Just, fuck I don't remember seeing you put your lip ring back in. Surprised me, 's all."

"Not a lip ring," Castiel muttered, glancing up at Dean under his eyelashes as he slowly and purposefully dragged his tongue over the oversensitized nub; the metal of a barbell embedded in the center of his tongue flashing wetly in the darkness.

"Oh fuck," Dean moaned, arching his back into the teeth and mouth and tongue that were supplying the kind of delicious torture to his chest that his hardened member was literally weeping for in the confines of his jeans. "How many piercings do you even have?"

"Let's call them the fortunate byproduct of my misspent youth," Cas replied nonchalantly, mouthing his way across Dean's chest even though his hand scrambled desperately into the punk's hair in an effort to encourage him to continue with his ministrations that had left his nipple peaked and tingling in time with his racing pulse. "Are you complaining?"

"Not complaining," Dean whimpered, thanking and cursing every deity he knew when he felt Cas's lips brushing over his other nipple.

He wasn't sure how much more of the teasing he could take before he made an embarrassment out of himself, revelling in the way that Castiel's belt bit sharply at his bare stomach every time the other man's hips gave another desperate thrust into his own. Cas had to be just as turned on as he was, breathing harshly against his skin while the punk's hands trailed over his shoulders and down to his waist, fleetingly grazing his belt before they skirted away again to cup his face so the other man could kiss him deep and bruising again.

"Keep going?" Castiel asked, pressing his forehead into Dean's and holding his face gently between his hands; fingers brushing shakingly over his cheekbones and jaw as fierce blue eyes held his own. Dean could only nod and press another quick kiss to the other man's smile, scared that if he tried to actually speak he would start begging or crying, emotions flying between elation that this was actually happening and sadness that it wouldn't last forever. "Oh thank fuck, I feel like I'm about to fucking come right now and wouldn't that just make for the most awkward walk of shame ever?"

"I meant it when I said you could stay the night, Cas," Dean admonished gently after taking a shaky breath when the punk quickly dropped his hands to his waist and started tugging at the belt that Charlie had lended to him.

He wanted to say so much more, but apparently Cas thought that what he had already said was enough because the other man just growled at Dean's belt and went to work on his zipper next; popping the button with a deft turn of his wrist before Dean felt a strong hand push down his tight boxer briefs, finally freeing his straining cock that he had started being seriously concerned about. There was already precome glistening at the tip that the punk used to ease his hand when he gave a tight stroke to the length of flesh between them, causing Dean to arch up into the other man's sure grip and whimper desperately because his mind was telling him he needed more fast now or he was going to die.

Castiel was watching the movement of his hand on Dean's length, brushing the tips of the fingers on his other hand over Dean's nipple; Dean thought he would come just from the heated, hungry way that Cas was looking at him and had to remind himself that he was trying to not scare the punk off with his desperate need to have him closer when he eased the tight grip that he had on the other man's muscular thighs. A primal part of him hoped that there would be bruises on the punk's skin that would warn other people away, but the small part of his mind that only just barely coherent part told him that was petty and he was better than that; fuck that part.

"Cas!" Dean moaned, high and reedy; cringing inwardly from how whiny he sounded, but he didn't think he could draw in enough of a breath to make his voice sound normal because that would mean that Castiel would have to stop touching him and no way in hell did he want that to happen. "Jesus, pleasepleasebedroomplease. Take me to the bed, Cas. Need you in my bed."

"Bossy," the punk breathed, lunging in for another kiss and not letting up on the steady pumping of his hand around Dean's cock before he pulled away and arched a questioning eyebrow at him. "Top?"

Dean whimpered, throwing caution to the wind as he shook his head, letting out a choked sob when Castiel made a dangerous noise at the back of his throat and climbed quickly out of Dean's lap. Tugging him to his feet and dragging him off in a random direction in the house, towards the kitchen and away from the bedrooms, but it's not like the punk knew where he was going. Still, the quick search of the house that the other man did before Dean took pity on him and pointed out his bedroom afforded him the opportunity to take a closer look at the tattoo that the punk had on his back; an arching dangerously sharp looking pair of wings that ran down the entire length of his spine and looked like they had sprung straight of the skin at Castiel's shoulder blades.

He wanted to lick and memorize the placement of each individual inked feather, but that was about as far as his thought process got before Cas was practically tossing him down on his bed and tearing him out of the rest of his clothes. The other man paused to look at him once Dean was finally naked, breathing heavily as his hands hovered over the buckle of his own belt with an expression of awe on his face that Cas masked with a roguish smirk once he realized that Dean was just staring at him too, his hands fisted in the bedsheets beneath him.

"Do you know how fucking hot you are?" Castiel asked, rolling his shoulders before he went to work on tugging his belt out his belt loops.

The punk dropped it with a ringing clang on the floor as he pushed his own pants down the sharp jut of his hips; almost but not quite pulling off his loose fitting plaid boxers that he was wearing underneath. They were tented obscenely in the front and Dean had to fight to not swallow his tongue because holy fuck, Sam may not have been lying when he had bragged about how well-endowed Gabriel was. Dean quickly moved a hand to grip the base of his cock, holding off his orgasm that had suddenly sprung into sharp reality when he fleetingly thought of how much of the other man's erection he might be able to swallow down flashed through his head; accompanied by a very vivid image of Cas snapping his hips into his face that made Dean salivate.

"It almost kills me that you don't," Cas continued, seemingly unaware of how close Dean was to coming just from the sound of the punk's smoke graveled voice. The other man ranged over him on the bed, grabbing both of Dean's wrists and pinning them above his head on the pillows underneath him causing him to whimper and buck his hips up into the punk's that were still covered by an almost nonexistent amount of fabric. "The whole doe-eyed innocent thing works for me so fucking hard. I saw you in the bookstore and just wanted to hear you say something, wanted to be able to imagine how you would sound when I was fucking you and it was all I could think about for weeks. And then you were up on that stage in those damn jeans that make me want to kill every single person who's ever even thought about your ass. Fuck, Dean. You have no idea how hard I've been all night."

"Oh, please Cas!" Dean groaned, straining his neck so that he could try to kiss the other man who moved just far enough way that he couldn't reach him before smirking devilishly and ducking his head down to nip at Dean's neck; easing his iron hold on Dean's wrist as his mouth started to move downwards. "Please, I need you. Just holyfuckyes! Christ, just fuck me already, Cas!"

"I will," Castiel promised, releasing Dean's nipple from where he had caught it his teeth before laving it gently with his tongue, the metal barbel catching on it's hardened peak drawing a new round of pleading curses from Dean as he tested the strength of Castiel's hold on his wrists with his desperate squirming. "I'm just gonna take the edge off first and then if you want, I'll fuck you so hard you can't remember your name."

"I want," Dean gasped, his spine arching off the bed when Cas started nibbling his way down Dean's stomach, the punk's stubble scratching over the sensitive skin covering his hipbone

Castiel's let go of Dean's hands in order to trail soft patterns over the quivering, tense muscles of his thighs; nosing at the curled thatch of pubic hair at the base of his cock before ignoring Dean's erection altogether in favor of sucking a dark bruise into the soft flesh of his inner thigh. Dean wanted to bury his hands in the other man's hair and direct Cas to the parts of his anatomy that were crying out for attention, but the punk gave him a stern look when Dean put his hands on the other man's shoulders; one that dared Dean to try to take control of the places that Cas wanted to put his mouth.

He could feel the tears of frustration welling in his eyes because he wanted to trust that Castiel would take care of him and keep him safe and make sure that he was happy, but his mind just wouldn't let go of the stubborn fact that he had only just actually met the other man and that Cas wasn't going to be around long enough for him to feel this way more than once or if he was lucky twice. Dean felt like he should just enjoy himself and try to let go of as much of his control that he could while he had someone who was willing to look past his muscles and his dorkiness to see what he really needed.

"Do you always think this much in bed?" Castiel asked tersely, propping himself up on one of his elbows so that he could level Dean with an annoyed stare from where he had ended up crouched between Dean's spread legs with the fingers of his other hand tracing teasing circles around the base of his cock. "Because there are a lot of really explicit things that I would like to do to you, but a little feedback on your part would be fantastic for my ego. Y'know encouragement or some more of those seriously sexy moans you've been letting out? Fuck, I'd even settle for you telling me to stop because right now I feel like I'm going down on a mannequin which was one of the few kinks I thought I would never explore."

"Do you always talk this much in bed?" Dean retorted thinly, feeling childish even though his comment just caused the punk to smirk and press his face into the crease of Dean's thigh with a heavy sigh.

"Only when I'm nervous," Castiel admitted with a nonchalant shrug, clearing his throat briskly before he moved one of his hands to roll Dean's testicles in his palm. "It's a family trait, pretty sure Gabe is a just a walking panic attack. Now as sexy as your enthusiastic consent would be right now, I'll stop. I will have to go take the longest cold shower of my life, but I'm pretty sure I will survive you letting me down gently. I'd just like the chance to show you how much I want this to be good for you, for both of us, if you'll let me."

"Wow," Dean muttered, running a shaky hand through the other man's hair causing the punk to sigh in contentment and arch up into his touch. "I'm sure as hell not going to tell you to stop, Cas. I just...I have trouble letting go sometimes. I want to, god how I want to, but um...I haven't had a lot of guys give a shit about me and whether or not I get off."

"Well I give a lot of shits,"Cas replied angrily, his hand tightening on Dean's hip enough that Dean let out a hiss of discomfort. "Sorry, I just care okay? Dean, I do. Do you believe me?"

"Well, you're kind of holding me hostage here," Dean joked flashing a smirk that faltered when Castiel frowned and sat up on his knees quickly, stopping the gentle ministrations of his hands that had been rolling Dean's balls and apologetically brushing away the sting that his fingertips had left on Dean's hip. "Joke! Bad joke, horrible shitty no good very bad joke. I believe you, I…" He let out a heavy breath and dropped his own hands defeatedly down to his sides. "I trust you, Cas. Please? Please don't stop."

The other man stared at him for a long moment, eyes narrowed as he searched Dean's face before a smile quirked the corners of his mouth and he let his eyes trail downwards; the caution in his eyes becoming more and more heated until Dean felt like he could physically feel the scorching hot desire in the other man's gaze. Castiel dropped back down to his earlier position, all business now as he gave Dean's cock a few quick strokes that were followed by his tongue licking wetly up the length to ease the slide of his hand on the heated flesh.

Dean let out a guttural moan that felt like it was being forced out of his toes when Cas mouthed over the head of his cock, his hand finding the nape of the other man's neck and holding on for dear life as the punk's skillful tongue dipped into the slit and teased his frenulum. Castiel for his part, chuckled knowingly around the flesh in his mouth; setting off vibrating trills down Dean's spine and flashes of colors behind his eyelids that kept fluttering closed against his will because the tattooed punk's mouth on his cock was an image that he wanted seared into his memory so that he could revisit it once the other man was done with him.

God, he had to stop thinking! Even if this was the only night that he got with Cas it was still likely to be one of the best nights of his life and Dean was going to be damned if he let his chronic worrying keep him from letting go enough to enjoy this. So he focused on the way the other man's hands were caressing his legs and his abdomen, the way that sinful mouth was providing just the right amount of suction to bring him to the edge before the subtle scrape of the punk's tongue ring on the underside of his cock made him gasp away from it; cursing and begging for Cas to just fuck him already or to let him come because it felt like he was about to burst into flames.

"Goddamnit, Cas, please," Dean gasped, skipping his fingers over the other man's taunt shoulders in warning because he was so close and there was no way that this wasn't going to end embarrassingly fast if the punk kept humming around his cock like that. "Please jesus, oh fuck, Cas...you can't just...shit just like that. Yesyes, so fucking good."

Castiel pulled off his cock long enough to suck in a ragged breath, kissing Dean's hips and stomach as he continued to stroke him fast and hard using the saliva left on Dean's cock to find the most perfect, maddening rhythm. The punk licked his swollen lips as he looked up at Dean, groaning lowly when Dean reached up a hand to rub over his own chest as he thrust his cock into the tight slide of the other man's hand.

"You are so fucking perfect," Cas told him, ducking his head to lick up a bead of precome that formed at the tip of Dean's cock, humming in contentment as he did. "Beautiful and smart and too fucking good for me. Don't know how I ended up here."

"Caaaas," Dean whined biting his lip in an effort to stave off the rolling tidal wave of his orgasm that was threatening to crash down on him if he finally let down the last of his guards. He was so far gone that he didn't even understand what the other man was mumbling into his skin, could just feel the desperate nips and slide of tongue before the punk's mouth was on his cock again; swallowing him down and holding him there as he thrust blindly into the wet heat surrounding him. "Oh fucking...Cas, I'm coming fuckfuck. Oh shit, don't let go. Please."

He could feel the other man's throat swallowing around the head of his cock and Dean vaguely realized that at some point the punk had gotten a firm hold on his hand that had been clutching the bedsheets, twining their fingers together while Dean's cock spasmed and throbbed in his mouth. Dean floated in that hazy mindspace that he usually only felt when he was jerking off, safe in the knowledge that he knew exactly what he needed in order to come and carrying it out efficiently enough that the fact that it was a dildo or his fingers in his ass instead of a hard cock barely registered. He usually only felt this way after he had been filled up and wrung out and the worries that were usually yammering for attention slipped out of focus in the aftermath of his orgasm.

No one he had ever been with had made him forget about everything, not until Cas. But he still knew his own name and decided that he would tell the other man that once he came down enough to be able to form coherent sentences again. The punk had let Dean's half wilted cock slip out of his mouth in favor of nuzzling his thighs and resting his head on the jut of Dean's pelvis, Castiel's own breathing was harsh and unsteady as it mingled with the sound of Dean's uneven gasps that were loud in the quiet bedroom. After a few moments, Dean looked down when he felt the other man's stubble scratching at his skin accompanied by the soft press of swollen, full lips; Castiel smirked up at him and moved down until he could hook one of Dean's knees up and over his shoulder, doing the same with the other knee until Dean's backside was raised off the bed by a couple of inches.

"Now that we've taken the edge off," Castiel stated simply, his hands disappearing to knead the globes of Dean's ass as he spoke; the twinkle in his eye making Dean frown in confusion because he had no idea if the other man thought he had a superhuman refractory period or what, but there was no way he was going to be able to come again after that blowjob without some serious encouragement. "Let's see if we can get to the headliner."

"What the hell are you-oh!" Dean started, giving out a high pitched gasp when the other man answered his half-finished question with actions rather than words. His heels dug in to the punk's tattooed back hard and Dean knew that his toes had to be curling with pleasure even though he couldn't look because his eyes had momentarily rolled back in his head; no one had ever done _this_ to him before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! I'm sorry I cut off mid-sexytimes, but hey! That means that the next chapter is going to start off really interesting *winkwinknudgenudge*. I'm contemplating updating California Dreamin' next (for those of you that read that fic, thoughts?), but the update for this one will roll back around soon and I promise that it will be well worth the wait. Comment and such because I like hearing from ya'll, XOXO.


	7. folding over pages so that you don't lose your place (or how not to handle library books and first time lovers)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "No matter how careful you are, there's going to be the sense you missed something, the collapsed feeling under your skin that you didn't experience it all. There's that fallen heart feeling that you rushed right through the moments where you should've been paying attention. Well, get used to that feeling. That's how your whole life will feel some day. This is all practice.” ― Chuck Palahniuk, _Invisible Monsters_

Dean was by no means a porn addict, nor was he completely immune to the allure of how much easier it was to just point, click, and stream some hot guy on guy action instead of going out to look for it himself. So his roommates could judge him all they wanted for having a favorite porn star and a collection of burned DVDs of said porn star all they wanted, but it didn't change the fact that Dor had once unapologetically showed him the box of porn and toys that she and Charlie had in an effort to make him stop feeling like such a social reject shut in and Sam was a freak in the bedroom which the larger man didn't even bother to hide.

Also, he had learned a lot of useful things from porn; like how to prep someone because the first time he did it he had no idea what he was doing and the other guy that he had been with had talked him through it in the most condescending and demeaning way ever. It had helped him figure out what definitely did not turn him on and what did, providing names for the acts themselves and an anonymous community where he could explore his sexuality without the fear of someone laughing in his face.

So now that Cas's mouth was on him, tongue teasing across the sensitive skin behind his balls before trailing lower to lap tentatively at his furled hole, all Dean could do was keen softly and hope that came across as the _yespleasedon'tfuckingstopever_ that he intended it to be.

The punk adjusted Dean's knees on his shoulders, lifting his legs higher off the bed as he spread Dean's cheeks in order to gain better access to the puckered ring of muscle that hardly ever got touched by anyone besides Dean. His foreplay with partners usually involved dicks sliding together along with some mutual cock sucking but he had never had anyone do this to him and he had always been too concerned with stretching whatever guy wanted to bottom for him enough so that he wouldn't hurt him that it had never even occurred to him that rimming could actually feel this good. But then he remembered what the punk was probably just getting him ready to take; remembered the way that Castiel's cock had tented his boxers, creating a hard, straining ridge of flesh underneath the thin material that Dean knew with the same certainty that he knew his own name had to be huge. Dean had never thought of himself as a size queen and his own dick wasn't huge, but no one had ever scoffed at it either and he wasn't about to scoff at Cas. No way in hell.

"Oh shit, yesyes," Dean moaned, threading the fingers of one hand through the other man's dark locks and using his other to hold his cock that was stubbornly regaining interest in the situation against his hip so that he could have a better view of the mischievous blue eyes that kept glancing up at him from between his legs.

He arched his back in an effort to get more of the other man's mouth in contact with his skin, wanting to memorize how it felt because it was probably going to be a long fucking time before someone touched him like this again. Dean felt like he wanted to laugh and cry and curse the heavens for giving him a glimpse of what it could be like with Cas when they both had already acknowledged that it wasn't going turn into anything real. But all he could do was moan and tighten his grip in the punk's hair and try not to pass out when he felt the ball bearing on Cas's tongue ring catch and tug on the rim of his entrance.

"More," Dean demanded breathily, licking his lips that were dry from panting as the punk just arched an eyebrow at him before pushing the tip of his tongue into his hole; causing a maddeningly addictive bolt of electricity to shoot down his spine and a disappointed whimper to be wrenched from his throat when Cas pulled away and went back to just teasing him with light slides of his tongue. "You act like you're on vacation or something down there, Cas. Fucking get on with it and stop torturing me."

"Hmm," the punk hummed with a shrug, the resulting vibrations from the other man's mouth making him writhe and gasp brokenly as Cas moved away to bite into his thigh again; one of his hands slipping down enough so that an unseen finger could continue to press more firmly against him. "I prefer to think of it as worshiping. Honestly, I could spend all day eating your ass, but if you're gonna be all impatient -"

"I don't want you to stop," Dean practically sobbed in reply, rushing to get the words out because it felt like he was going to just die from how light-headed and out of body he was feeling from this whole experience. Cas wanted to worship _him?_ Okay, his ass, but still the thought alone was enough to make his cock give a lively jump from where it was pressed under his palm. "Just...god, don't fucking tease me; if you're going fucking ruin me at least prep me while you're doing it."

"Should've known you'd be a multitasker," Cas replied with an amused quirk of his lips. "Fine then, if you're hellbent on spoiling all of my fun…"

"Sorry," Dean breathed, shutting his eyes against the sudden wave of melancholy that ripped through him because of course that's all this was to Cas, fun.

"Don't be," the punk replied fondly, levering himself over Dean to kiss along his neck. Dean felt those strong hands trail up to grip his arms that had traveled up to scrabble desperately at Castiel's back; he wasn't even entirely sure when that had happened. He just knew that the spot where the other man had been touching him felt bereft and empty without the steady, perfect pressure of fingers or tongue or anything that Cas wanted to give him. "I'm a quick study, lube?"

"Nightstand, top drawer," Dean answered lighting fast, turning his head in an effort to catch the other man's mouth in a kiss that the punk ducked easily as he reached in the direction that Dean had indicated. "Condoms there too."

"I've got that part covered, very literally," Castiel said with a scoff, letting out a strangled sounding groan after Dean heard the other man yank hard to open the drawer to his nightstand that always always stuck. "Christ, Dean. Please tell me you use this?"

Dean glanced over to see what the other man was talking about, having gotten lost for a moment as he allowed himself to run his hands over the tattoo on the punk's ribs that moved with the slide of muscles as Cas sprawled heavily across him to reach for lube. What he wasn't expecting to see, mostly because he had honestly just been concerned about Cas getting the aforementioned lube so that he could just feel the addicting burn of the other man stretching him open already, was the punk smirking at him with heated, hungry eyes as he held up the moderately large sparkly pink dildo that Dean did indeed use fairly often.

He felt his cheeks flare with embarrassment as he nodded sheepishly, watching as Cas set the phallus in a place of honor on the nightstand before grabbing the lube and moving quickly to press his lips against the corner of Dean's mouth; rutting his hard-on shamelessly against his thigh fast enough that Dean could feel the hot, rubbing friction that the other man's boxers were creating on the skin there.

"When was the last time?" Castiel growled lowly, pulling back so that he could see Dean as he shrugged out a response; it had been a while, probably since before he had gone home to visit since he had been too scared of his mom or Jo finding it in his luggage to take it with him. "Did you ever fuck yourself with it and imagine that it was me?"

"Yes," Dean admitted quickly, eager to please the other man so that Cas would just fucking kiss him already; why did he keep moving away from him? "Thought about you fucking me everywhere; here, my car, work. Fucking me like you couldn't get enough of me, like you lo- like you wanted me back even though you didn't know me."

_Like you love me._

What Dean had almost said but didn't because there was no way that he loved this guy who he hardly knew and he was willing to bet money that Cas definitely didn't love him; it was just the adrenaline that was making his heart pump ultra-hard and his out of control hormones making the knots in his stomach clench harder every time the punk leveled another of those knowing, destructive smirks at him. It was probably the most terrifying thing he had ever experienced in his life and Dean never wanted it to end.

"Fuck, Dean," Castiel muttered, looking hard at Dean's lips for a moment before he took in a shuddering breath and made to move back down the bed, laying sharp bites along his torso and hips again as he went; adding more bruises to the ones that Dean had already resolved to count right after the other man ditched him. "I thought about fucking you every day for a solid month, y'know those name tags you guys wear are done up in really small print?"

"W-What?" Dean stuttered out, grappling at the punk's shoulders when Cas hoisted one of his legs back up over his shoulder; managing to just scratch at the skin there before the other man's mouth was on him again, humming what sounded vaguely like "You Are My Sunshine" against his sensitive entrance and yep, he would never be able to hear that again without instantly getting hard. "Oh, jesus fuckyesyes, Cas. Fucking hell."

The other man pulled back again and reached for the lube that he had left next to Dean's shoulder, pursing his lips to blow cool air onto Dean's spit slicked hole; an action that earned a whole new round of curses and pleas from Dean who had just stopped trying to fight the arousal that was building fast and unchecked again from the other man's touches. Castiel chuckled warmly from his response and Dean watched through heavy-lidded eyes as the punk liberally coated three of his fingers with the the gel, rubbing the digits together briefly before Dean felt one rimming around his entrance; pushing in enough that it made Dean squirm with desire and toss his head back with a muttered curse.

"Let's just say I was calling you 'Freckles' in my head until I saw you up on that stage tonight," Castiel said softly, the admission almost dripping with the same kind of rawness that Dean was feeling light up his nerve endings.

Dean wished he could make his eyes open so that he could look at the other man because the punk's voice sounded just so goddamned earnest and he had to know if Cas really did mean it; if he really had been thinking about him too. But he couldn't force the muscles in his neck to relax, his head thrown back against the pillows when he felt the punk's tongue go back to working in tandem with his fingers as he slowly stretched and urged Dean open. He kept hearing muttered endearments every time Cas pulled away to breathe and he was fairly certain that he was dangerously close to spilling exactly how much he wanted this to be more, but luckily the punk was making him too deliriously incoherent and breathless to get out anything more than whines and gasps.

"God, you're doing so good, Dean," Cas told him, drawing back again so that he could twist his wrist as he scissored two fingers into Dean, earning a whine as he arched high off the bed. "Shhhh, I've got you, baby. Jus' want you to be able to take it all, don't wanna hurt you."

Dean felt like he was burning up from the inside out, the reprieve that he got from the other man's tongue fucking him open feeling too short when Cas crooked his fingers and found his prostate; sliding the callused pads of his index and middle fingers over the bundle of nerves. The sensation made Dean see stars long enough that he hardly even felt the sting of a third finger slipping inside of him, not until Cas twisted the triad of digits and spread them outwards against the pressure of his muscles.

"Fuck Cas," Dean managed to croak out, drawing the punk's attention from where he had started softly sucking on Dean's balls in an effort to distract from the the slightly painful ache Dean could feel at the base of his spine. "I'm ready, come on...jesus, fucking need you. Pleaseplease, Cas."

"One more," Castiel said gently, nudging Dean's thighs with his cheeks in order to urge him to spread his legs wider. "Want it to feel good."

"Shhhiiiittt," Dean hissed, his muscles clamping down in protest when he felt the punk's pinkie nudge inside him; he tried to breathe through it, holding on tight to Cas's forearm until he felt his body start to adjust to the intrusion that had never ever been this big before, nodding hesitantly when the other man asked if he was okay before pushing in towards his center. Surely Cas wasn't _this_ big? "God, Cas either your dick is huge or you have the willpower of a saint or just...fuck. ."

Dean felt his legs shift as the punk shrugged underneath him, watching with a critical eye the junction where his fingers were cautiously pumping into Dean; glancing against his prostate just enough to keep his reawakened cock interested in the proceedings despite the slight edge of pain that fizzled on the outskirts of his brain. He felt a bubble of panic form in his chest; what if Cas wasn't as into this as he was? Was that why he hadn't just pounced on him yet? Did the other man not think that he was sexy?

"I am sure no saint has ever thought about your ass how I'm thinking about it right now," The other man assured him, effectively bursting the bubble before Dean could fully freak out as he felt the other man gently ease his fingers out and shift away from him. "I might just ruin you for anybody else forever."

"Might let you," Dean mumbled under his breath, lamenting the fullness of the punk's fingers inside of him, but deciding that he was probably going to be back to begging fairly soon so it would probably do him some good to act cool and coy before the other man got sick of his whininess.

Castiel glanced back at him with a strange expression on his face as he reached off the edge of the bed to snag his jeans off the floor from where they had puddled earlier at the foot of the mattress; rifling out his wallet in order to extract a gold-wrapped square from its depths. The punk held it up triumphantly and unceremoniously tossed his wallet back on the floor, biting his lip as he paused for just a second to watch Dean who had continued to idly stroke his cock while he waited on the other man before letting out a heavy, stuttering breath and pushing his boxers down.

Cas pulled them off his legs ungracefully and ripped open the condom wrapper with his teeth, rolling it on efficiently before reaching for the lube; Dean could only watch dumbfounded because it was like seeing some sort of wild jungle cat in it's natural habitat. Below the waistband of his boxers, the smooth line of the punk's sinuous muscles continued and Dean could see an intricate band inked around the top of his thigh. There was a thin line of dark hair trailing down from the other man's belly button to the swath of hair that framed the thick, jutting outline of the punk's cock; it was massive, probably the biggest dick Dean had ever seen outside of porn and definitely comparable to Dale Cooper's. Fuck, maybe his favorite porn star was just Cas with some cleverly grown facial hair after all.

Dean managed to breathe again when he felt the punk's weight settle on top of him, Castiel cupping his jaw in order to direct his gaze up from the cock that had settled heavily on his thigh. The punk was studying his face closely. Lips swollen and glistening from all of the kisses they had shared and the attention he had been lavishing on Dean, hair mussed and sweat spiked from the ever-present heat radiating off of the both of them, blue eyes swallowed almost completely by the dark, dilated orb of his pupil, but still concerned when the other man loomed over Dean with his forearms pressed into the mattress on either side of his head.

"Wanna back out now?" Castiel whispered softly, casting a meaningful glance down between their bodies when Dean frowned in confusion over the question. Back the fuck out of what? _OH._ What person would turn down Cas over a litt- okay, massive thing like that?

"I trust you, Cas," Dean answered evenly, reaching up to catch the other man's mouth in a soft kiss; one that the punk didn't immediately return until Dean wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and pulled the other man down harder on top of him, cluing Cas in that he wanted this almost more than he wanted anything else.

"I'll go slow," Cas promised, dark eyes shining with gratitude and affection and so much fucking want that Dean was sure he was just imagining the rest because it was what he wanted to see.

Dean dropped his knees open as wide as he could and shifted until he felt the other man's cock sliding along the slick crevice of his ass, causing the both of them to groan as they shared one last urgent kiss. Cas sat back on his knees and planted one of his hands on Dean's hip, using the other to slick a hasty handful of lube over his cock before he pressed the head of his member against Dean's eager entrance. He felt the almost forgotten pressure of a cock pushing into him, the thick heat of Castiel's arousal driving the burning pleasure he had been feeling when the punk had been stretching him to unimaginable heights when his body protested against the intrusion.

"Relax," Castiel soothed, thumb brushing gently against the hollow of Dean's pelvis as he let out a heavy, shuddering breath; all of the muscles in his chest and stomach just jumping shadows in the moonlighting filtering in through Dean's half-closed curtains. "Know you can do it, baby. Just relax for me."

Dean nodded quickly, biting his lip to keep the panicked voice in his head from taking over and telling Cas to stop, that no he couldn't take it. That Cas was just too big, way too big, that he was scared or maybe admit that that wasn't even what was really stopping him. Dean was scared, but only because he was almost certain if he did this then he really would be ruined for anyone else, that no one would ever be enough after this and he wasn't even just talking about being well-endowed. Cas was just so concerned about him, so willing to put his own pleasure aside if Dean asked him to and he had to keep reminding himself that this was just fun and nothing more; because if he didn't he would really and so much more literally be fucked. Fuck it, if he had to fly solo for the rest of his life because no one else ever pushed his buttons like Cas did then at least he would have this to look back on.

"Oh fuck," the punk groaned as Dean felt the head of Cas's cock push into him, the flare at the tip causing a bright burst of pain to go off in his brain before it was dulled by the much stronger throb of _wantyesfuckmetakemeloveme_ that was coursing through his veins. "God, you're so fucking perfect. So fucking hot."

Dean wanted to respond with something witty or even complimentary that would make him stand out in the probably monumental line of Cas's conquests that he had just joined, but all he could do was focus on his breathing; through his nose because he didn't think he could open his mouth without declaring undying and over-the-top affection for this foul-mouthed punk that he barely knew. So he just focused on the delicious invasion of Castiel's cock pushing slowly into him, the man's hands having settled possessively on his hips so that he could hold Dean still as he claimed him. It was everything he needed and not even close to everything he wanted, but he felt even more of his control slip away and that was enough for now.

It seemed liked hours before he felt the sharp jut of the other man's hipbones press against his thighs, the stretch and burn of Castiel filling him seeming like it was never going to end as Dean's breathing grew more and more labored. His own dick was flush with blood against his abdomen, leaking precome down it's length and onto his skin with every twitch it gave. Dean felt like any other normal guy would be jerking themselves into oblivion right now; concerned with only their own orgasm, but his fingers were clamped hard onto Castiel's thighs which was about the only part of the punk that he could reach. All he could think about was how it would feel when the other man came inside him, pumping and pulsing against his prostate which felt like it had been touched by every single glorious inch of the Cas's cock as he had slid into him. Dean just wanted to feel that before he came again, the anticipated sensation making him press the side of his face into the pillow underneath him and let out a string of curses and whimpers.

"Fuckingjesus, please, Cas," Dean groaned, flexing his thighs and rolling his hips in an effort to get moremoremore of the other man as deep as he could inside of him. "Oh please fuck me, pleaseplease."

"Trying real hard not to come here, baby," Castiel muttered, his voice sounding like it had just been dragged a thousand miles over broken glass and rock salt; the punk dug his thumbs into Dean's hips and he stilled instantly, keening from the show of force from the other man. "Just give me a second, then we'll get back to giving you amnesia. Just...fuck, you feel fucking fantastic."

In his head, Dean responded with something equally as eloquent to Castiel, but all he heard coming out of his mouth was a ragged, impatient groan before Cas shut him up with a short, sharp jerk of his hips. He wasn't even sure if Cas had pulled out at all or just put some force behind the length that he'd already pushed into Dean, but it had him seeing stars and bucking his hips and giving a hoarse shout of pleasure.

"Yeayea, jus' like that," Dean ordered, licking his lips and imagining that he could taste the saltly sweat that he could see beading off of the punk's heaving chest. "Hard and fast's how I like it, Cas. Fuck me so I feel it for a week."

"Touch yourself," Castiel said lowly, drawing out of Dean with a slow roll of his hips before pushing back in firmly with a soft slap of his balls against Dean's ass. "Since we're both making demands, I wanna see you jerk off that pretty cock of yours as I fuck you. Show me what you looked like when you had that dildo in your ass and you were thinking of me."

"Oh fuck yes," Dean moaned, pulling the punk down on top of him for a messy kiss that was mostly tongues tangling together as Cas continued to pump steadily into him; working up a rhythm that was getting faster and harder with each thrust.

He dropped a hand down to his cock between them, stroking it slowly and just on the wrong side of tight so that he wouldn't come before the punk did. It was a test of wills, trying not to come, because Cas's cock was slamming hard into his prostate on each thrust and dragging against it roughly every time the punk pulled out, creating an almost constant pressure on the bundle of nerves inside him that became even more intense when Castiel sat back up and pushed down on his spread knees to fuck into him deeper. Dean's hand was covered in pre-come and his vision was dancing with bright spots of color and fading fuzzily to black around the edges at the same time; creating a tunnel of sensations that all boiled down to the sound of Cas's ragged breathing and the blinding pleasure of the other man pounding him into the mattress and the sight of Cas's face watching the motion of his hand on his cock with a half-snarl curling at his lips.

"Shit Dean, you're so fucking hot. Wish I could keep you just like this," Castiel groaned, the snarl on the punk's lips triggering something deep inside of Dean that made him want to please the other man. He sped up the pace of his hand to something that was more like how he actually touched himself when he masturbated, focusing on the frenulum as he fucked into his fist with short strokes that matched the pace of Castiel's cock in his ass. "Fuckfuck, Dean. Want you to open yourself up for me with that dildo. God, that'd be so hot...ugh fuck! Ne-next time, that's what we're gonna do."

Dean's orgasm caught him completely off guard, mostly because it felt like all of the air was being forced out of his lungs as his shoulders arched off the bed with an unbidden moan, but definitely, for sure partially because he hadn't been expecting Cas to want a next time and oh fuck, did Dean ever want a next time. He would probably cheerfully sell his sister to the circus for a next time with the punk who's thrusts had started to falter when Dean's come had streaked out over his chest.

His vision swam as he fought for breath, tears sliding out of the corners of his eyes as he continued to ride out the aftershocks of his orgasm. If he were able to form a single coherent thought, Dean would probably be embarrassed that he was practically crying, but right then he didn't even care because Cas was groaning low and feral above him like the beautiful force of nature that he was; hips snapping forward with enough strength to make his teeth rattle before he felt the pulse and throb of the punk coming inside him.

Dean was sure there would be bruises in the morning, but when Castiel folded himself down gracefully on top of him after carefully pulling out, uncaring of the sticky mess covering his chest and hand to catch his lips in a kiss, it was honestly the least of his concerns. In fact, the only concern that Dean had was that his tongue felt too fuzzy and pleasantly numb to kiss the other man as thoroughly as he wanted to; settling for a languid press of lips together as they caught their breath back that seemed practically geriatric when compared to the rest of the kisses they had shared. It also meant he couldn't talk, which was probably for the best since he was bound to either blurt something embarrassing or break the news to the punk that he did in fact still remember his name, just maybe not his middle name.

"Holy fuck," Castiel murmured, earning a hum from Dean who could more than agree with the punk's sentiment as Cas slid off of his chest to lay curled against his side. "That was...wow. That was sex for sure."

Dean huffed out a tired chuckle as he turned to face the other man, sighing in contentment when Castiel carefully plucked his glasses off his face and placed them on the nightstand next to the bed, he was only mildly surprised that they had stayed on that whole time. Cas nosed at his jaw for a couple of minutes, the punk turning out to be much more of a cuddler than Dean had expected, not that he minded in the slightest, before letting out a sigh and moving to climb off the bed.

"'S'okay if I smoke in here?" the other man asked, making a face at the condom that he had just pulled off before plucking a tissue out of the box that Dean kept near the bed and getting up to toss the whole mess into the trashcan next to his desk.

Castiel had started reaching for his jeans after he asked the question, calming Dean's racing heart because for a second there he had thought that the punk was about to thank him for a great time and take off. Dean nodded quickly even though he knew that Charlie would probably complain about the cigarette smell tomorrow when she got home, he wasn't due back at work for a couple more days though so maybe he could get the place aired out in the morning before she got home and noticed. The punk smiled widely, snagging his pack of cigarettes out of his jeans before cursing over his lack of a lighter.

"Fuck," Cas stated despondently, twirling a cigarette thoughtfully between his fingers for a second before his face lit up and he raced out of the room, not bothering with any clothes which afforded Dean a distinctly pleasant view of the other man's backside as he left. A couple of minutes later the punk returned, the tip of his cigarette glowing and a triumphant smirk on his face. "I may have just used your toaster for purposes that the manufacturers never intended, hate me?"

Dean shook his head and yawned, earning a laugh from Castiel as he crossed the room to crack open one of the windows that faced the side yard; settling down on the floor next to it with his back against the wall and his arms propped up on his knees so that he could regard Dean. For his part, Dean was above the moon; sated and happy and looking forward to the punk climbing back into bed with him and maybe spooning around him until they fell asleep. Just cause this wasn't serious didn't mean that he couldn't enjoy it while it lasted, for however long it lasted and it had been a long time since he had had someone stay the night. He wouldn't mind making breakfast for Cas in the morning either.

"Not much of a talker after, huh?" The punk piped from his spot by the window, the moonlight slanting off of his face so that it left his eyes shadowed from Dean's view. "Or is this the part where I'm supposed to take the hint and leave so that you don't have to kick me out?"

"No," Dean objected, wincing from how raw and hoarse his throat felt. God, had he really been that loud? "I mean, I was just wondering if you like pancakes or waffles better. So unless you're planning on leaving and then coming back for breakfast it would just be more sensible for you to stay here."

"I don't mind sleeping on the couch," Castiel said after a lengthy pause that let Dean reflect and curse himself for how stupidly hopeful he had sounded by offering the punk breakfast. Maybe Cas didn't want to stay.

"I mind," Dean replied softly, fingering a loose thread on his comforter that he was definitely going to have to wash tomorrow. "I mean, if you want to sleep in here...then um...I want you to."

Dean was pretty sure the other man was desperately trying to think of an exit strategy, some way that he could leave without hurting his feelings and he was already composing the cool way he would accept Cas's brush, holding off the break down that would surely come after the punk left. But all he heard was a hum of acknowledgement from Cas before he saw the soft red flare of light from the other man taking a drag off his cigarette before stubbing it out on the outer windowsill. After that he had a lapful of sinewy punk to focus on, grinning as the other man clambered over him and squirmed into the narrow space closest to the wall. Castiel fluffed up the pillows there and settled down onto them with a pleased hum, adjusting the covers around himself until he seemed satisfied before meeting Dean's eyes.

"You're staying then?" Dean asked, dumbfounded because he had really expected Cas to leave even though it was the last thing that he wanted.

"I kick, I snore, and I talk in my sleep," the punk said evenly, his expression turning flat and serious save for one dark eyebrow that arched and gave him away. "Is that going to be a problem?"

"Only if you're okay with me drooling all over you," he answered, a sudden urge to touch driving him to reach out to twine his fingers through the other man's; Cas just smiled brilliantly at him and squeezed his hand, planting a soft kiss on Dean's knuckles before relaxing even more into the pillows.

"Drool all you want," Castiel said softly, closing his eyes as he pulled Dean's hand closer to tuck it against his chest. "I'm from San Pedro, practically born on the beach. We're golden."

"I have no idea what any of that means," Dean muttered, stifling another yawn against the pillows before he inched a little closer to Cas until their legs were tangled together and he shut his eyes. "But you can tell me in the morning."

"Waffles," the punk mumbled in reply and all Dean could do was smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I realize this chapter is pretty much half as long as the last one. Yes, I realize how much that sucks, yes I suck. But I'm also moving this week and have done zero packing so I'm putting a hold on updates until next week and I wanted to get something for this out before ya'll had to wait any longer. Also I wanted to end with more fluff/happy and if I had kept going it would've become either monstrous or a cliffhanger. This way I get some packing done and you guys aren't left in too much suspense, fair? I hope so. Anyway, the love on this fic has blown my mind, you're all awesome and lovely and yea, ugh. I love writing this fic and your responses honestly make me WANT to update this one more. So yea, til next week lovelies.


	8. those dumb ideas that no one stops you from following through on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "In a perfect world, you could fuck people without giving them a piece of your heart. And every glittering kiss and every touch of flesh is another shard of heart you’ll never see again." -Neil Gaiman, _Fragile Things_

He woke up because he heard something, something that turned out to be the ringtone that he had set for when Sam called him: _Cut Your Hair_ by Pavement. It was usually a fan favorite if the other man happened to call him when he was around one of their mutual friends because seriously...the hair was quickly becoming the longest running joke at BookPeople and Dean had only worked there for like a year.

Dean groaned into the pillow that he was holding onto and pressed his face tighter into it's warmth, willing Sam to take the fucking hint already because it was barely even light out yet and no one in their right mind should be awake right now. There was a short beat of silence after the phone stopped ringing and Dean's breathed a sigh of relief, snuggling closer into the the enticingly safe smell of cloves and a sharp sweetness that was lingering in his sheets. But then his phone started ringing again and Dean kicked his legs in frustration before flailing blindly behind himself in an effort to reach his phone that he usually kept on his bedside table.

"It's not there," A deep voice rasped out above his head and Dean's head whipped up when the pillow under his cheek shifted and slid out of his grasp of its own accord. "I think it's with your pants somewhere. You go back to sleep, babe. I'll find it."

Dean blinked blearily as the punk slid carefully out from under him, not making a big deal of the fact that they were both still naked and Dean obviously had waking amnesia bigtime. Okay, so he hadn't dreamed the mind-blowing sex. _Awesome!_ He watched the other man, slip carefully off the end of the bed and tried to hide how stupidly he must be grinning by pushing his face into the actual pillow that was definitely not nearly as comfortable as the other man's chest that he had apparently been using as a pillow before. Cas somehow managed to look even fucking better in the soft morning light filtering in through the still cracked window, hair mussed and another night's worth of stubble ghosting over his cheeks as he rubbed sleepily at his jaw.

He heard the punk stumbling and rummaging around in the half-light, cursing softly to himself when he stubbed his toe on the edge of Dean's desk before the muted ringtone got louder and finally, mercifully stopped. Dean was half-dozing, spreading himself out on the bed in an effort to keep Cas's spot warm for him while also watching the other man through half-cracked eyelids; getting a jump on counting the feathers inked onto the punk's back simply because he could. God, how had he gotten so lucky?

"Dean's phone," Castiel answered gruffy, scratching at the tattoo on his ribs with his free hand as he yawned. "Heh, yeah he's asleep still. Hey man, do you know what song he has play when you call? Awww c'mon you know it's fun-Yea, yea. Well I can't even believe that my brother is awake right now, so yea I'll talk to him."

Dean squinted at the pink blob that was on his nightstand, a shiver racking through him when he realized that it was his dildo that Cas had just left sitting unashamedly on display all night and remembered the groaned promise of next time that the other man had given him. He could do a next time, like even thinking about it was making him pretty sure that next time could be right now and he wouldn't protest in the slightest.

"Gabe? Yea, dude it's me...well where the hell else did you think I would be?" The punk's sleep relaxed voice taking on an almost imperceptible edge of defensiveness that drew Dean even further into consciousness. "Okay, I guess I deserve that, but cut me some slack, man. Jesus, I forgot how mean you are in the morning…Wait, what? What? She did what? How is she even moving yet? I practically had to carry her to the taxi bridal style...Nonono, Gabe I said 'No'...Because you know what's she's like, fuck you live with her…Shit, I feel like that's a real convenient thing for her to just forget about...No, I'll bring it to her. NO, Gabe! Don't bring her over here...because I would think that you don't want your boyfriend's house being burnt down."

Dean was trying really hard not to listen, but the sound of Cas's studded belt dragging across the wooden floor in his room had him sitting up quickly in his bed and scrambling for his glasses; getting them settled on the bridge of his nose in just enough time to see Cas hefting his boxers and pants up over his hips. The other man was shoving his wallet into his back pocket and Dean felt his heart jump up in his throat as he watched the other man scrub an agitated hand through his hair before he left the room with Dean's cellphone still pressed to his ear. The punk was _leaving._

He practically fell out of his bed in his haste to catch Cas before he left, feeling like he was missing some crucial part of the conversation that would make it clear to him why the other man was in such a hurry to get away. Dean didn't bother with grabbing his boxers, even though he saw them shoved halfway under his bed along with his own jeans and shoes that had been so thoroughly stripped off of him the night before by the punk who was now sitting on his living room couch, shirt on and struggling with putting back on his Converse without untying them.

"Well, you have a lot more faith in her than I do," Castiel was saying, letting out a frustrated growl before his slim, nimble fingers made quick work of the mess of knots that were his laces so that he could get his last sneaker on. The punk glanced up at him and gave a grimacing smile, eyeing Dean's nudity with a raised eyebrow and a disappointed sounding sigh before he got up and started ambling toward him. "Yea, yea...I agree with you there, she's the biggest fucking cockblock in the galaxy. Tell her I'll be there in a bit with her fucking scooter...Yea, bye."

"Let me guess," Dean said tightly, wrapping his arms around his torso. Fuck, he was standing there naked, with the traces of dried come that hadn't rubbed off on his sheets still clinging stubbornly to his skin like the complete fucking moron that he was; just trying not to cry when Cas started to reach out and then stopped, tucking his hand into the pocket of his tight jeans instead. "You have to go."

"Yea," the punk said shortly, shuffling his feet awkwardly as he looked at Dean; his voice sounding flat and emotionless like Dean wished he could make his own voice sound right now because if he talked he was pretty sure it would come out broken and desperate. "Meg is flipping her shit about her scooter, she said she has to work and she needs it. So...um, I have to take it back to her...but, uh...if you aren't busy later maybe we could, y'know?"

_Hook up again._

Cas didn't have to say it for Dean to be able to read between the lines and he hoped he kept the emotion off his face when he shrugged noncommittally, he was a big boy after all; he had known what this really was despite the promise of breakfast and a next time and something more that he thought maybe was there but obviously wasn't. He was just a warm body and a person to share a bed with to Cas, which he had _known_ , but he always got so fucking attached and fuck his life he was about to cry. Goddamnit, he could feel it and blinked down at his bare feet hard; hoping that the flush in his cheeks could be attributed to him being embarrassed about being naked.

"Hey," the punk said, deep and so fucking soothingly soft that it just made Dean want to cry more.

He wanted to hear that voice when he was sick or stressed out about school or having yet another existential crisis; it felt like that was the voice that was always meant to save him from anything and everything bad that could ever happen to him. Dean felt a warm hand slot into place on his hip, perfect and strong when it tugged him close until his naked chest was pressed against Cas's fully clothed one. Despite himself he looked up, seeing the concern and earnestness in the other man's eyes as the punk searched his face; taking in everything about him so fast and reacting in the exact way that he felt foolish about wishing for that Dean thought surely he must be as easy to read as a book. But maybe, he was Cas's favorite book; the one with the cracked spine and the dog-eared pages that he kept lending out to everyone because he wanted everyone to see whatever it was that made him special too.

All of this he thought when Cas leaned in and kissed him, chaste and soft with none of the urgency and heat that had been there the night before; it was nice and Dean arched into it, wishing that it didn't feel so much like a goodbye.

"Raincheck on those waffles," Castiel murmured the words lowly against Dean's lips, chasing them with another peck and a squeeze to his hip before swiftly handing Dean his phone back and striding to the door; snatching up Meg's helmet lightning fast once he got to the door before turning back to give him one more once over. "I'll call you, 'kay?"

Dean nodded stiffly, watching the other man leave before he felt suddenly self-conscious and rushed back to his room before Charlie suddenly decided to come home and saw him standing in the living room on the verge of tears and naked. It wasn't until he had pulled his boxers back on that he collapsed back onto his bed, glancing towards his window where Cas had left his stubbed out cigarette butt on the outer sill that Dean realized the fatal flaw in the punk's logic: Cas didn't have his number.

* * *

Maybe it was that he had talked in his sleep...OR, fuck. _The cuddling._

Sam and Charlie both told Dean on the few occasions when they had shared sleeping spaces in motels that were lacking in basic amenities, but not a sense of humor, that he was a massive cuddle-monster.

With Sam it was during Christmas break on a road trip home where Dean had dropped the other man off in Lawrence, Kansas as he made his way towards Sioux Falls and then stopped on the way back to pick up his roommate for the beginning of the spring semester only to find out that Sam's dad had sent him back to Texas on the bus a week earlier. Sam never talked about his dad, only his mom, but apparently there were reasons for that. And Charlie...well, it had been an interesting sci-fi convention in Houston that neither of them could pass up; Charlie got a tattoo of Princess Leia straddling a 20-sided die and Dean...well, he _did not_ get that Rebel Alliance tattoo that he had no memory of drunkenly drawing on his collarbone with a Sharpie even though he apparently had.

So they knew that he tended to wrap himself around any beacon of warmth that he might be sharing a bed with from personal experience; Charlie said it was like Dean had somehow been bitten by a radioactive octopus and his superpowers only showed up when he slept. The irradiated, narcoleptic cephalopod was the theory that his roommates most often joked about, but Dean figured it probably had more to do with the night-terrors that he used to have as a kid.

Unexplainable dreams about twilit forests full of something that made his skin crawl and the sinking sensation that he had lost something in the unfamiliar hell-scape in his head. As a teenager and then later an adult the dreams had made him a night owl, choosing to stay up reading or listening to music or doing anything at all in order to make himself exhausted enough that he didn't dream, but back then all that had been able to calm him was crawling into his parents' bed and snuggling into the warm-safe space between their sleeping forms; counting their breaths until he fell back asleep and just didn't dream.

Yea, the clinging, suffocating cuddling that didn't freak out his family or friends because it was a thing and they didn't have to deal with it all the time so they didn't really care...that was probably what had scared Cas off. But it took Dean obsessing and angsting and NOT TALKING ABOUT IT for almost a week before he settled on the least painful theory for why the other man had left and never called. When he voiced his idea about what had happened to Charlie and Dor when they were in the kitchen making homemade ravioli, the two girls just rolled their eyes at him; somehow managing to sound like they knew what they were talking about even though they were both covered in flour when they told him that he should just call Cas already.

But Dean didn't tell them that he had been asking Sam to ask Gabriel about his brother because he didn't have Cas's phone number and he knew the punk sure as hell didn't have his because Cas _hadn't called_. Which by the way, was pretty much the dumbest thing he had ever done in his whole fucking life. Who has epic sex with someone and doesn't even give the other epic sex participant a phone number? Or an email address? Or holy fuck, an old Myspace handle would've been enough that Cas could have probably tracked him down and talked to him if he really actually wanted to.

Sam kept conveniently "forgetting" to ask Gabe because it's not like the two of them were "dating" or anything, which fuck Sam by the way for being so obnoxiously nonchalant about hooking up with someone who he so fucking obviously liked. But Dean could see the pity in his roommate's eyes, everytime he asked his friend if Cas had maybe, possibly sort of mentioned him in any way shape or form and it only took asking several times a day until about the middle of the week before he gave up and just kept his mouth shut about Cas in front of Sam. He knew that he was putting his friend in the middle of something he didn't want to be in, especially since he already knew the whole liking-someone-for-more-than-just-their-genitals-thing was freaking Sam out way more than either Dean or Charlie had ever seen.

So he stopped asking about Cas right around the same time that Sam spent more than two consecutive nights alone in his own bed rather than someone else's, which also happened to coincide with how long it took for Dor and Charlie to figure out exactly how to cover up the dark purple hickey's that were peppered up and down both sides of Dean's neck. Which was good because when he went into work on Sunday, Lisa took one look at him and banished him to the stockroom with Crowley; proclaiming that that was the only part of the store he was fit to work in without mortally offending a Republican since he was marked up like a teenage girl. There were 14 by the way; fourteen bruises and bitemarks from Cas that ran in a meandering line down his neck and torso with a particularly dark hickey that was definitely fading the slowest marring the inside of his thigh.

But he did keep trying to reason it out, why Cas had felt like he had to lie to him in order to get away. Because that was really the only explanation for why the other man didn't call...unless he sucked in bed and Cas just didn't want to tell him. Unless the punk had realized upon waking up and seeing his framed Batman posters, fairly obsessively cataloged comic book and record collections, and action figures that Dean was actually a huge fucking dork and not worth his time. Unless Cas was actually exactly like every other guy in his mid-twenties who just wanted a quick lay and no commitment and every word that had come out of his mouth had been an elaborate seduction just so that he could get it-

It was usually about that point that Dor or Charlie threw stuff at him until he stopped talking, which was probably for the best because once he got on the subject of Cas and what could've possibly gone wrong it was like a never-ending stream of self-hating word vomit. Okay, maybe he had been watching _Mean Girls_ over and over in an effort to make himself feel better, but he liked Tina Fey and when Charlie wasn't there to shut him up he turned his brain off for a little while and turned on Netflix. Dean didn't listen to music though, absolutely refused to turn to Sunny Day Real Estate or The Weakerthans in an effort to find someone who understood how much this brush off actually hurt him; because they he would forever associate the bands he liked with Cas and he would never be able to listen to them again. And if he didn't have music then he wasn't sure he would have much of anything.

By the next Saturday, after going over every single moment of his and the other man's interaction over and over in his head until it seemed more like a badly written porno than anything else; taking the time to go through his last, desperate line of reasoning with Charlie as they drove to work for their mid-shift that got scoffed at by the other girl. Of course his compulsive cuddling wasn't the reason the other man hadn't called him, that was dumb. It sounded reasonable in his head, but wayyyy less plausible when Charlie incredulously repeated his theory back to him as they ambled across the parking lot.

"Dean, seriously," Charlie chided him, stashing her messenger bag behind the front registers with Aaron and Becky as Dean tugged agitatedly at the sleeves of the deep purple cardigan that he had worn to fight off the chill that always lurked in the dark corners of the stockroom. "Maybe he's just been busy, plus isn't he just visiting or something? Why are you getting so obsessed when you knew that he might not stick around?"

"Because it's the only thing I'm good at," Dean mumbled under his breath as they sought out Lisa so that she could banish him back to Crowley and cobwebs in the stockroom even though he and Charlie had spent over half an hour applying concealer and itchy finishing powder to what felt like his entire body in order to cover up the fading bruises. "Can we just stop talking about it now? You've made your point, I sound like a moron. No one is scared of cuddling, Cas just hated me."

"Ugh! I didn't say that either!" Charlie huffed in frustration, storming away with a stomp of her foot and a flip of her no longer there hair towards the cafe where Ruby was waving at her with an impatient look on her face.

 _Great,_ Dean thought, making a mental note to go and apologize to Charlie later for putting himself down in front of of her; she had told him more than once that it was her biggest pet peeve.

"Upstairs, Dean," Lisa said with a dismissive wave of her hand when he found her on top of a ladder dusting the neglected upper echelons of the fiction section, barely even sparing his neck a glance when he made of point of tilting it so that she could see that his hickeys were 'gone' as he slipped his lanyard nametag around his neck. "Becky has been stuck on register and the Children's section is a mess; start there and then Religion could use some TLC."

Dean forced a smile on his face, sincerely grateful of the fact that at least he was out in the open part of the store again instead of trapped in the back with Crowley and his weird German thrash chamber music that he liked to play in the stockroom. He wasn't entirely looking forward to being ogled by teenagers from behind the stacks that separated the Children's and Young Adult sections, but at least the Art and Social Science books were on the second floor; maybe he could get a jump on reading that new Chuck Klosterman book if he had some down time.

Straightening the near constant mess that was the Children's second helped settle his nerves, helped him focus on something else besides how fucked up his personal life was because he could just sit down and have a tea party with the little girl's who were looking for everything ever written by Beverly Cleary instead. Dean inherently liked kids even though he could never see himself having any, content with the fact that he would probably just be the coolest uncle ever instead of a father and he had always thought that if he ever settled down with anyone, it would have to be someone who treated kids like people instead of pets.

"Cas's tattoos probably would've scared kids off anyway," Dean muttered to himself as he waved bye to the kids in the section before heading off to re-alphabetize the Religion section.

It was a task which shouldn't really be as hard as it actually was because at least half of it was just bibles, but the Eastern Religion subsection always tended to bleed into the New Age section that was nearby and it was like a scavenger hunt trying to find anything when it was surrounded by the oversized tomes about palm-reading and metaphysics. By the time he had finished that, Becky was back and Dean was thirsty; so he grabbed the spare walkie-talkie so that she could call him if there was a sudden rush on Austin travel guides or knitting books and made his way down to the blessedly mostly-empty cafe.

Charlie was engrossed in carefully writing the barista special on the small chalkboard that sat on the pastry case, 'Boba Fett Tea: Iced Green-Tea latte with tapioca pearls and caramel syrup'. Dean smiled at the Star Wars reference and put on his most contrite face when his roommate looked up at him, frowning from behind her own glasses that she used for reading that were slipping down her nose. He reached out and pushed them up for her, beaming when she did the same to his own glasses that weren't slipping down, but it was their thing and it meant she wasn't really mad at him.

"I just fucking hate it when you do that," she stated simply, putting a curlicue and a little Death Star in the corner of the board before eyeing it critically and putting it back on the stand that it usually sat on. "I mean, you're a great fucking catch, Dean. And I hate to see you all torn up over some guy who didn't stick around long enough to see that for himself."

"I'm fine, Charlie," Dean mumbled, glancing at a nearby table where a middle aged man was calmly reading the Wall Street Journal and sipping on an enormous latte. "I'm not torn up over Cas, okay?"

"Bulllllshhhhit," Charlie sing-songed, snatching up a large cup and quickly pouring him an iced coffee with hazelnut just the way he liked; moving around the small space behind the counter as she worked so much more effortlessly than he had when he had covered for her and seen Cas with Meg all those months ago. "But it's okay, you're not big on the no-strings-sex. I'm sorry if you felt like you had to because of me and Dor and Sam and I'm really sorry that Cas turned out to be such a jerk. Just seeing how he looked at you...I don't know, I might have just been drunk. But it looked like he liked you, like really _like_ -liked you."

"Well, I thought he did too," Dean admitted with a half-hearted shrug, jumping when his walkie talkie suddenly let out a burst of static from his back pocket. "But I promise I will stop bugging you with it. I guess I better get back, thanks for the coffee."

"Sure thing, dollface," Charlie replied with a little salute, missing the grimace that Dean made when the memory of Cas calling Meg the same thing flashed through his head because she had turned around to fiddle with the espresso machine.

" _Dean,"_ a static voice that was barely recognizable as Becky's hissed out at him as he grabbed his coffee and started slowly back towards the wide staircase that led to the second floor, wishing that he was off the clock already so that he could linger at the reference desk next to the graphic novels so that he could talk to Garth about the new issue of Secret Avengers that he had picked up on Wednesday from Austin Books & Comics. " _I need you to come back, like now. Over."_

"Roger that, Eagle-one. I'm on my way back. Over," Dean replied with a heavy sigh, sipping on his drink and taking a serious moment to consider taking the rarely-used elevator (and people wondered how he stayed in shape) before continuing his heavy-footed trod up the stairs.

" _Can you hurry though?"_ she hissed and Dean raised the walkie talkie to his ear like a phone in an effort to hear her better, it sounded like she was whispering and that did not help the static crackling in the slightest. " _There's a random dude holding like, storytime or something in the Children's section. I'm not sure if its creepy or not."_

"What does that even mean, Becks?" Dean asked, hesitating briefly at the top of the stairs because once he finished climbing them then whoever it was his coworker was freaking out about would be able to see him and hear the conversation they were having about him through the walkie talkies. He could only assume that Becky was being quiet enough because otherwise Dean would be able to hear some sort of a commotion since she was almost accusing someone of being a pedophile in a roundabout sort of way.

" _It means,"_ Becky continued and Dean stood on tiptoe so that maybe he could peek over the railing to see who she was worried about, he couldn't. " _I'm conflicted because it's cute and all because holy shit he's hot, but he's way too young for any of these kids to be his own. Maybe he's a babysitter? Well now I feel dumb, that's a totally reasonable explanation."_

"Too reasonable," Dean agreed shortly, hoping he didn't sound too clipped and annoyed when he turned off the device with a buzzing static burst before taking the last couple of stairs; Becky always fucking overreacted to everything.

His coworker was leaning over the reference desk directly in front of him, head cocked to the left as she peered into the Children's section with it's arching castle entranceway that Dean had spent about twenty minutes at the very beginning of his shift scrubbing what he had sincerely hoped was chocolate pudding off of it's brightly colored paint. Becky glanced up when he walked towards her, not bothering to see what all of her fuss had been about because hot to her equalled Fabio-esque guys like Sam and that was so not Dean's type at all. Not that his type was anything but Cas right now, but Dean was sure that aching hole in his chest would eventually go away; he'd just be more careful who he trusted next time.

"Sorry," his coworker said sheepishly, gesturing helplessly towards the more primary colored part of the floor. "But, Dean. It's seriously the cutest thing I think I've ever seen, I mean. Now that I know he's not skeeving on little kids, you've got to check it out."

"I will if you never talk about _50 Shades of Grey_ in front of me again," Dean angled hopefully, crossing his fingers out of sight where she couldn't see them on the other side of the desk. He didn't look towards the Children's section, even though now he really really wanted to.

"Only if you give Sam my phone number," Becky blurted quickly, bouncing in place with excitement as Dean rolled his eyes and shrugged in agreement; he'd told her a million times that she wasn't his roommates type, but if she refused to accept that Sam was gay then that was her problem and it wouldn't hurt anyone if he gave the other man her number...again.

"Okayokay, but be stealth, Dean," Becky continued after letting out an excited little squeal and coming around the desk to hook her arm though his. "It's like going to a petting zoo, they can sense your fear."

"Becky, they have like tiny horses in petting zoos," Dean argued softly as they snuck up to a window that was cut out of the castle wall and stacked with copies of picture books about fairy tales. "Are you scared of those little horses?"

"Not the point, Dean," Becky said, shushing him quickly when he opened his mouth again and just grabbed his chin to forcefully turn his face to the tiny child-height window. "Pay attention, this is important."

Dean let out a heavy sigh and humored the other woman, his knees going weak even as goosebumps broke out involuntarily all over his body when he saw who exactly it was settled in one of the many beanbag chairs that were slung about the carpeted area. _Of fucking course._

A group of kids were crowded around his dirty Converse that were poking out under the edge of his too long black dress pants that were frayed and dirty along the bottom hem from being trod on and they were all staring up at Cas with varying expressions of awe and adoration on their tiny, grimy faces. Cas had on a short sleeved black button down shirt that was hanging open loosely over a white t-shirt that had what looked like a herd of sheep printed in black and white on it. He was holding a copy of _Sideways Stories from Wayside School_ by Louis Sachar and Dean's heart that had not hardened towards the other man in the slightest despite what he might have telling everyone melted even more when he registered that the punk was doing the voice's for all of the characters as he read.

"'You don't like me, do you?'" Cas asked the assembled crowd of children in an exaggerated falsetto voice before returning back to his normal speaking voice that still sent shivers down Dean's spine even though he could feel the righteous indignation boiling in his veins. "She asked Louis. 'Sure I do,' said Louis. 'No you don't,' said Deedee. 'Yes, I like you,' said Louis."

Two of the little girl in the group were whispering and giggling to each other at the back of the group, but one little boy in an Iron Man t-shirt turned around and shushed them. His freckles stood out sharply on his skin when Cas stopped reading to watch the interaction, smirking indulgently when the little boy shrugged at him in response before dropping his gaze down to the punk's shoes; blonde hair that was sticking up in messy spikes contrasting in a wholly familiar way against the blush on the little boy's neck and ears.

Cas cleared his throat before adopting the falsetto again, "'No, you don't,' Deedee insisted. 'Yes, I like you. I really do,' said Louis. 'Are you suuuure?' asked Deedee."

"Yes," Becky muttered wistfully beside him, making Dean glance away from Cas long enough to take in the star-struck expression on his coworker's face; it was like seeing what he had probably looked like when Cas sang to him on stage and that just made him even more angry. "Don't you believe me?"

"What are you talking about?" Dean hissed at her, turning back to Cas as the other man leaned expectantly towards the group of listeners; hardly even glancing at the book that he was holding in his hand as he spoke like he knew all of the words which, okay...that was kind of adorable. Fuck him.

"The book he's reading," Becky said giving him a sharp jab in the side with her elbow hard enough that Dean let out an exclamation of pain that caused Cas's head to shoot up and turn straight towards the window that Dean and Becky were spying on him though. "Oh shit, scatter."

 _Traitor_ , Dean thought bitterly, rubbing at his side as Becky practically fell to the floor beside him in her effort to not be seen leaving him to receive the full force of the punk's amused gaze as it fell on him and then roved over his face for what felt like an eternity.

"Keep reading!" The little boy in the Iron Man shirt exclaimed, reaching out a chubby-fingered hand to jostle the book that was being held loosely in Cas's hands. "I wanna know if Deedee goes home early on the kindergarten bus!"

"Okayokay," Castiel replied quickly, plucking at the open side of his dress shirt for a moment before he managed to tear his gaze off of Dean and move it back the task at hand. "So...you're my best friendblahblah...okay, 'Terrific,' said Louis. 'I always wanted to be best friends with a dead rat.'"

The girls at the back of the group let out the kind of scandalized 'Ooohs' that Dean knew from experience with Jo only came from little girls seeing older girls do the same thing and thinking that it made them look worldly and cool. But the little boy at the front just grinned, wide and happy so that it accentuated the front tooth that was missing from his smile. Cas beamed at the group before shutting the slim book and clambering awkwardly to his feet; rolling out of the bean bag chair and onto the floor before jumping up and running a hand through his hair.

Dean straightened up swiftly when the punk started to wade carefully through the group of children on the floor and towards the exit of the section that was just a couple of feet away from where he and Becky were still lurking. He hauled his coworker to her feet and and dragged her towards the the reference desk, ignoring her whines of protest once she realized that the cute guy who had just been reading and charming a bunch of small children was doggedly tailing them.

"Dean, no!" Becky said breathlessly, throwing a smile over her shoulder at Cas who Dean could almost feel staring at him through the back of his cardigan; the punk's gaze exactly like the other man's weight had been when it had pressed him possessively into the bed. "No! He's really cute, what if he-oh my god Dean he's totally checking you out! Dear God, I'm like living in a Sophie Kinsella novel right now."

"You're being generous by calling her books 'novels'," Dean muttered, pulling her behind the reference desk with him and placing her shocked and malleable body between him and Cas who stopped short once he reached the scarred wood of the desk and frowned at Dean who was steadfastly looking up every book about asthma that the bookstore carried because he felt like his chest was about to cave in and he hadn't owned an inhaler since junior high. Fuck he really did not want to hyperventilate and die right now, but he wasn't sure that his body was going to give him any other choice.

"Hey Dean" Castiel said by way of greeting, which just caused Becky to elbow Dean in the ribs again and mouth 'Oh My God' at him when he glanced at her before rolling his eyes and going back to counting the seconds between his too fast breaths; resolutely ignoring the other man as hard as he could. "Ooooh-kay, then. Book girl, I'm Castiel Adler. How are you today?"

"I'm fantastic and you're super cute and if you and Dean make out can I watch?" Becky blurted loudly, causing the mother who had shown up to collect the gap-toothed miniature Iron Man to glare at the three of them in horror. Becky slapped a hand over her mouth as she blushed bright red before giving Dean a pleading, apologetic look and rushing off in the direction of the bathrooms that were in the far corner of the floor.

"Is it weird that I kind of like her?" the punk asked after a beat of awkward silence in which the only sound was Dean's not-so-subtle wheezing that he still couldn't control even though he really really was trying.

Dean just pushed his glasses up his nose and tried to subtly wipe away the sweat that had formed on his forehead, unbuttoning his cardigan in an effort to try to cool himself down because his body was starting to panic from not being able to draw in anything more than a gasping, half-breath. God why did Cas have to come here? Why couldn't he just stay away if he didn't like him like that? Even if he stayed in Austin, the punk knew that this was Dean's domain and it was so fucking fucked up that he had intruded on that without seeming to care in the slightest.

"Hey are you okay?" the other man's voice asked distantly and Dean nodded briefly even though his hands were shaking and his vision was going fuzzy in a much more unpleasant way that it had when he had come saying Cas's name, feeling safe and taken care of and unashamed of the less than perfect parts of himself that he kept hidden away for probably the first time in his adult life.

"No, you're really not," a deep voice mumbled in his ear. "Here, let me help you."

Oh hey! When had Cas moved around the counter to wrap an arm around his waist? It felt nice. No! Not nice, Dean didn't need to fall for this whole secretly sensitive thing again from the other man because he had just spent the last fucking week waiting for a call from Cas that _hadn't fucking come._ Dor would be pissed at him for acting like some sort of helpless wilting flower when he had every right to be a fiery fucking dragon intent on ripping Cas to shreds for being a total jerk.

He didn't know what the deal was with feminists and dragons, but when Cas tried to peel his cardigan off his arms Dean finally snapped out of it; the fresh air filling his lungs enough that he could get far enough away from the punk so that he couldn't smell the cloves that lingered on Cas's skin. The smell had haunted his pillowcases until Dean had broken down and finally washed them the day before, having finally accepted the fact that Cas had probably only fucked him in the first place because it was convenient and Dean was obviously a loser. It was a pity fuck and Dean hadn't even liked Cas much anyway so it was FINE.

So he said as much as he shrugged off the other man's hands and put the reference desk back between them, leaving Cas on the employee side with a confused expression on his face. "I'm fine, Cas! Just...stop, please."

"Stop what?" Castiel asked, frowning and tilting his head as Dean just shook his own head and started to walk off in any direction that wouldn't send his lips crashing into Cas's. "Dean, I'm not doing anything! Hey, fuck… you walk really fast. Just talk to me for a second, alright? I know you're mad, but shit dude I didn't mean to leave you hanging."

"I"m not mad," Dean lied, zig-zagging through a few aisles of books in the hopes that Cas would take the fucking hint and leave him alone already. The punk sounded sincere and even though he knew it all had to be some sort of act, Dean was having a hard time holding on to his entirely righteous anger. It was righteous...right? "You didn't call, we said nothing serious so I didn't even expect you to anyway."

"You're so full of shit!" the punk exclaimed, grabbing onto Dean's shoulder and spinning him around to press him into a shelf of books that rattled precariously when both of their weight collided with it.

Cas's eyes were wild and desperate, searching Dean's face for what he didn't know, but he was pretty good at wiping all of the emotion away when someone was getting to him. He had had a lot of practice doing it in high school and apparently it was just like riding a bike; some things you could never just unlearn how to do. So he stared blankly back at the punk who had planted his hands firmly on Dean's shoulders and who's own chest was heaving like he had been the one having an anxiety induced asthma attack just minutes ago and not Dean. It felt a little bit like a victory, but not the good kind of victory.

"Dean, I'm sorry," Cas finally huffed out, his voice that had been still carrying a hint of the daredevil swagger that Dean found so fucking attractive up until this point completely missing from the breathed apology. "Everything just got away from me, I meant to call I really did. I really wanted- fuck who are we kidding I fucking walked practically across town just to see you. That's how bad I wanted to see you, 'kay?"

"Go on," Dean managed to force out because now he was holding his breath for an entirely more pleasant reason; he just wanted Cas to keep talking and saying shit that essentially added up to 'I want you.' 'I missed you.' in the punk's own irreverent way.

"Well if I'm gonna live here I need a job," Cas explained with a shrug, leaning in a bit closer to Dean's chest as one of his hands slipped down and across his collarbone that was exposed by the V of the grey t-shirt that he had been wearing under his cardigan all day. "And my brother is big on the whole tough love approach that our dad used, that little shit refused to help me at all even though he fucking knows everyone in this damn town. Finally, I caved and let Meg call in a favor for me. I just came from the interview."

"You could've called me at any point and told me you were busy," Dean admonished softly, clearing his throat when his voice came out hoarse from the punk trailing one of his hands absently over Dean's chest. "Or had Sam tell me."

"Dude my house is so awkward right now because of Sam," Cas said, his brow furrowing in distaste for a moment before he brushed his thumb over the hollow of Dean's throat and smirked triumphantly at the gasp it drew. "He and Gabe both don't speak outside of sex because they're dumbasses. Anyone with two eyes can see those two are gone on each other already. Plus I don't have a phone, that whole thing where anyone can just find you at any time? No thanks."

"Yea, but it would've been nice to know that you didn't just disappear," Dean explained, pushing at the other man's waist when Cas moved in to nuzzle against his neck. He had to make the punk understand how not okay it was that he had just been left wondering if Cas had up and taken off without at least saying goodbye. You weren't supposed to just _do_ that.

"I'm subletting the rest of Ritchie's lease," the punk replied with a nonchalant shrug before his mouth twisted into a mischievous grin. "So I have plenty of time to make up for not calling, hmm? When are you off? I can start making it up to you right now if you want."

Dean felt the other man shift his weight against his chest and whimpered from the pressure of Cas's thigh pressing against his cock that was already half hard just from being wrapped up in the scent of the other man. God, he wanted to turn around and let Cas fuck him right up against the bookshelf; didn't even care if anyone saw or heard them or if he lost his job because it wasn't everyday that you got a second chance to sleep with the walking embodiment of all of your fantasies. But something about Cas's phrasing felt off and Dean had felt enough shame from jerking off all week with the punk's name tumbling out of his mouth to not want a repeat of the experience anytime soon, no matter how good the memories he was using as fantasy fodder actually were.

"So um...let me just ask and I know I shouldn't because my mom always said I had a self-destructive streak a mile wide," Dean rambled out, closing his eyes as he spoke because the sight of Cas smirking indulgently at him was almost enough to have him telling Lisa he quit before he pulled the punk into the closest empty closet. "When you say you're subletting...how long are you actually planning on staying? Here I mean, not necessarily with Gabe, just...in Austin."

"Well, I guess that depends," the other man said and Dean felt the press of lips that he hadn't been able to see coming against his jaw; shivering from the nip of teeth that followed. "If I find a reason to stay or not…"

Meaning he hadn't already found a reason to stay, meaning that Dean wasn't his reason to stay, meaning that he probably wouldn't stay. _Well fuck._

"Yea, no," Dean said shaking his head and using every last ounce of his willpower to push the punk far enough off that he could side-step away from the too-gentle ministrations of the other man. He took a deep, shaky breath and pulled his glasses off so that he could pinch the bridge of his nose for a second before looking back at Castiel's blue eyes that were searing with lust. "See I can't do that whole friends with benefits thing without hating myself. I can do the just friends thing and I can maybe do the just benefits, but I can't do both…"

Dean trailed off and made a face, hoping that he was getting his point across that he was willing to give Cas a reason to stay if the punk actually wanted a reason. It was hard to put into words that he wanted to be more than unserious with the other man without it coming out all sappy and Nicholas Sparks sounding. But if he had to chose between knowing that Cas was going to leave and having tons of meaningless sex in the interim or just being his friend and maybe it becoming enough that the punk found a reason to stay without it just being sex...well then that was just a chance that Dean was willing to take. Because holy shit did he ever want to be the reason that Cas decided to stay.

"So…" Castiel began, frowning in confusion as he ran a hand through his hair; the tattoo on his arm catching Dean's eye as he moved. So much for counting all of those feathers. "We can either hang out or we can have sex? Those are my choices, right?"

"Well...I mean, I guess so," Dean answered weakly, not adding in that there was a third choice where they both got all not unserious only with only each other, but it already sounded too much like an ultimatum and Dean was really regretting asking the punk to choose because what if he chose neither and just walked away again, but for good this time. Jesus Christ, did it just get hot in here?

Cas let out a self deprecating sounding chuckle and looked down at his hands before just shrugging and tucking them into the pockets of his abused slacks. "Well, shit. What do you do for fun besides sodomy in Texas? Rodeos? Cattle-roping? You're gonna have to help me figure it out."

Dean grinned and playfully bumped his shoulders into Cas's as he started back towards the reference desk where he could hide until his erection calmed the fuck down which might take a while if he kept thinking about how much he wanted to say fuck it and just kiss grin off the punk. "I'm not off for a couple of hours, but if you hang out I'll give you my patented Austinite tour. Pizza included."

"Well Jeez-Lousie, that almost makes giving up sex worth it," the punk joked, before striking out lightning fast and slapping Dean's ass as he passed; causing a blush that stayed with Dean for at least the next hour even though Cas was safely out of sight in the Music section.

_Yea, almost._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, this is not me saying there won't me any more sex in this fic, because trust...there totes will. Just maybe not for a couple of chapters. Anyway, Dean is dumb and Cas is dumb and why can't they just be dumb together already? idk, I just write this shit. THANKS FOR READING AND REVIEWING AND BEING GENERALLY AWESOME THOUGH!


	9. take some time to pause between the verses and the chorus, you'll hear the things that are only said on accident (or an obligatory 5+1 chapter)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You'll find that sometimes there is a huge valley between what we want to be and what we're capable of." -Stephanie Kuehnert, _I Wanna Be Your Joey Ramone_

Dean learned five very important things about Cas over the course of the next week:

**1\. Cas had terrible taste in food.**

He learned this when he got off work and went looking for the punk, finding him in the cafe with Dor and Charlie as he argued the merits of butter and how it could improve literally anything that it touched.

"Seriously guys," Castiel was explaining, waving his hands expressively as he spoke; overshirt now entirely removed and draped across one of his legs to completely reveal the white shirt that he was wearing underneath. "I'm going to have to make you brownies sometime with my special butter. The flaxoil stuff that Meg keeps at the house just like separates and makes weird clumps when I try to infuse it."

"We should try it with coconut butter!" Dor exclaimed, wrapping an arm around the back of Charlie's chair as Dean slowly approached the table. He still wasn't convinced that Cas was actually there or that the punk wouldn't bolt if Dean came on too strong. "Oh my god, they would taste like Mounds Bars!"

"Or at least we'd think they do," Cas replied with a quick wink before he turned towards Dean and reached out to hook a finger through one of his belt loops to pull him close until his hip bumped up against the chair that the punk was sitting in. "Ready to give me that tour, gorgeous?"

Charlie arched an eyebrow that Dean resolutely ignored because he was too busy trying not to blush and grin like a madman over Cas showering even the smallest affection on him in public. Maybe the punk was just affectionate all the time or maybe Cas was just hoping that Dean would cave on the whole 'no sex' thing. Either way he didn't really care because it meant that Cas sincerely liked him just a little bit; he could work with a little bit, Dean could build off of a little bit.

"Yea," Dean breathed out, clearing his throat when Dor snickered behind her hand at him. "I mean, yea, dude. Whenever you're ready to go."

"Where are you going?" Charlie piped, grinning innocently at Dean when Cas stooped over to pick up his overshirt when he dropped it as he got to his feet and Dean fought to not to look at the sliver of inked skin that was revealed when the punk's shirt pulled up.

"Dean is taking me for pizza," Cas said as Dean just shrugged beside him, hoping that the two girls wouldn't make a big deal out of what Dean had essentially been thinking of as a date all afternoon while he had watched the punk roam restlessly around the store.

 _Please don't make a big deal out of it,_ Dean begged Charlie and Dor in his head even as he saw the two girls' eyes go wide and starry like they did when they argued over who made the better couple, Faith and Buffy or Willow and Tara.

"Awwww!" Both girl's cooed in unison, leaning their heads together and not even wincing when their skulls knocked together audibly.

"Yea," Cas said, grinning widely as he straightened up and looped an arm lazily around Dean's shoulder; nudging against his jawline with a knuckle until Dean looked up at him. "Isn't he just the sweetest?"

"Oh my god," Charlie muttered awestruck before her expression fell and she buried her face in Dorothy's neck. "I want to be the _captain_ of this ship, Dor."

"I know, baby," the brunette muttered soothingly, patting at Charlie's short hair as she made a shooing gesture at Dean and Castiel with her free hand. "We'll think of a name for it when we get home."

"Sooooo," the punk drawled as Dean pulled him away and towards the exit. "Pizza first, right?"

* * *

"I thought the ricotta thing was a joke," Dean said blandly, wrinkling his nose with disgust as he watched the punk dig into his side of the pizza that was peppered liberally with large, congealed blobs of chunky, grainy, gross ricotta cheese. "Is that like your standard pizza topping or something?"

"No," the punk replied with a half-full mouth and a shrug. "I've just never been to a place that makes it like this before. You're like my favorite person for bringing me here."

Homeslice was a well-kept Austin secret, keeping strange hours at both their main sit-down location as well as the small walk-up store front that sold just slices next door. On that first 'not-date' that was were they had gone, after Dean had given Cas the lighting fast tour of South Congress; pointing out Lucy in Disguise and Hey Cupcake! even though they only got to duck into the eccentric costume shop for about ten minutes before Cas started making desperate hungry sounds while clutching at Dean's hips.

It was the pathetic attempt at keeping all of this whatever between him and Cas casual that he had insisted that they could walk and eat pizza off of paper plates at the same time; instead of going into the actual restaurant and sitting down. But the punk's brother had thrown a spanner in those works when Gabriel came inexplicably barreling up to the storefront that they had stopped to loiter in front of and grabbed his younger brother by the elbow; barely leaving Cas enough time to duck in and drop a dry kiss on Dean's cheek before they were gone, leaving him surrounded by other Austinites who were milling along the sidewalk in the fading evening light.

Since then Dean had seen Cas eat a BLT made with waffles instead of bread, pickles dipped in peanut butter, and an apple with salt sprinkled on it. He could admit that the apple with salt thing wasn't so bad once the punk had actually coaxed him into trying it, but still it had been a shocker to see the other man doing it and initially very much grossed him out. But it was endearing in a weird sort of way too. Honestly Dean was just horrendously turned on and confused about 90% of the time he was around the other man; a seemingly permanent state of being anytime he saw Cas doing something, anything with his mouth.

It was Tuesday before they went for pizza again, having hung out in fits and bursts since Saturday anytime Gabe happened to drive over to their house to see Sam which thankfully, was happening more often; at least those two seemed to be getting their shit together. Dean and Cas spent most of their time watching movies on his couch with the volume turned up high enough that they could drown out any sounds that may be coming from behind Sam's closed door. It was weird sitting with at least a couch cushion separating them when all Dean wanted to do was touch Cas and kiss him and drag him off to his bedroom, but that wasn't going to help him cultivate the 'love-me-instead-of-lust-me' thing he was trying to accomplish with the punk.

Not that Cas was making that very easy either with his fucking come hither eyes and the way his hands fucking _lingered_ anytime he touched Dean. And also Cas was doing this whole ultra-familiar, almost coupley thing when they were in public; keeping an arm around his waist or shoulders, placing a guiding hand on the small of his back, opening doors and other chivalrous shit that made Dean want to pounce on him because holy fuck no one had ever treated him that good ever in his life. But he was working through it by jerking off pretty much anytime he was alone, using Dale Cooper as a never ending source of inspiration for all of the things he hoped to eventually try with the punk.

"Well, you won't catch me eating that," Dean said, shaking his head once he realized that Cas had stopped chewing and was just watching him from across the table; head tilted like he had asked a question that Dean hadn't heard, but he had been too lost in his head thinking about Cas's lips. So he tried to cover using sheer force of will and sarcasm. "Seriously, it's gross Cas. That's like the worst type of cheese in the world."

"You have obviously never tried Meg's algae cheese," Cas deadpanned back, holding out the slice that he was eating toward Dean. "Don't knock it till you try it, sweetheart. C'mon, just one bite."

"No." Dean replied quickly, turning his face in an effort to avoid the punk's marinara covered assault. He caught their waitress smirking knowingly at them as she refilled drinks at the table nearest them. See, this was why he hadn't wanted to go to a sit down place; he didn't need people assuming things that might freak Cas out.

"Please, Deeeeaaannn," the punk begged, making airplane noises as he swooped the pizza like it was a plane until it hovered in front of Dean's mouth. "Open up, the Wright brothers are coming in for a landing."

"No, Cas." Dean said before he frowned in confusion and turned back towards the punk. "Wait, did you just-"

And then it was a mouthful of crust and sauce and regular cheese with just the corner of one of the ricotta blobs tainting the taste of awesomeness that Dean regularly associated with the pizza at Homeslice. He glared at Cas as the punk dropped his slice of pizza triumphantly back down onto his plate and raised an amused eyebrow at him, making a so-so gesture with his own hand before he grabbed a napkin to clean up the marinara that the punk had smeared all over his chin.

"It's alright," Dean said with a shrug, hiding his smile behind his napkin when Cas just stuck his tongue out at him and took a sip of the beer that he had ordered.

The punk looked nonplussed as ever when their waitress told them how cute they were together when she stopped to see if they needed anything and then just shrugged wordlessly at Dean when she left them to finish eating in an awkward, oppressive silence that Dean didn't know how to fix.

"Hey," Cas piped, snagging the check when it was brought before Dean had even sat down the water that he had been sipping. "Can we check out that antique shop down the street? I need some furniture; my room is like, fucking empty. It's depressing."

"Yea dude," Dean replied with a shrug, ignoring the hope that flared in his chest when he thought of Cas buying furniture and nesting and making plans to stay in Austin at a house that Dean hadn't even seen yet. "Whatever you want, I'm game."

**2\. Cas was a closet nerd.**

Or at least Dean thought he was because when they went into Uncommon Objects on Tuesday to look for some cheap furniture for the other man the first thing that Cas was drawn to was a huge, battered looking standing wardrobe that was buried behind a precarious stack of dusty saddles and threadbare sarapes. It was triangular in shape with doors that met and closed at one of it's corners instead of the center of one of the sides like a regular wardrobe. Dean thought the thing could use a good sanding and varnish before it was even remotely worth the thirty bucks that was marked on the tag that was hanging off one of the door handles.

"Dude," Cas whispered with a hushed reverence to his voice that Dean had only heard when the other man had called him gorgeous and perfect in bed; it was making his heart hurt a little to hear an inanimate object being talked about in the same way. "This is so cool."

"It's just a cabinet, Cas," Dean replied, unimpressed as he craned his neck to see if maybe there was a bed frame hidden away somewhere in the cavernous space.

The punk had been complaining about sleeping on the couch until he got a bed and if Dean had to hear one more sob story about a crink in Cas's neck his willpower was going to fuck off and he would invite Cas to share his bed again; his imagination just running rampant with the kind of massage he wanted to lavish on the other man until each and every one of Castiel's muscles was loose and pilant under his hands. They could take their time then, map out each other's bodies with their hands and their mouths before the punk sank into him and took care of Dean in return.

"No, Dean," Cas said, shaking his head briskly as he pushed past the saddles and ran his hand along the peeling and blackening varnish that stained the wardrobe a dull, unattractive greyish color. "Just look at this thing. It like, leads to Narnia or some shit. Fucking Draco is going to send Deatheaters through this. I need to get it."

"Oh Jesus," Dean muttered, rolling his eyes at the punk's theatrics when Cas ripped the priced tag off the handle and gave the wardrobe a fond pat before wading back over the jumble of small antiques separating them with a wide smile on his face. "Were you one of those kids who sat around and waited for their Hogwarts letter?"

"Whatever loser," the punk snapped, pushing lightly at Dean's chest when he reached him before grabbing his hand and dragging him off deeper into the store. "I'm still fucking waiting for that letter, who wouldn't want to be a wizard? Or let me guess you were more of a Holden Caulfield type of kid weren't you?"

"Maybe I'm just more realistic than you are, Cas," Dean answered, beating down the voice in his head that was saying it wasn't very realistic of him to fantasize about making out with someone who hadn't done more than hold his hand since Dean had issued his sex or friendship ultimatum. "I didn't spend my teenage years wondering which house I would get sorted into, I was a little more concerned about not getting the shit beaten out of me."

The punk let out a disbelieving snort before stopping short to scrutinize a fairly horrendous lampshade made out of the scaly hides of at least two armadillos. "I think that was a concern for most queer kids in high school, Dean. Plus you play D&D, how is that any different than my complete and utter certainty that I would've made a fan-fucking-tastic Ravenclaw? And you would've been a Hufflepuff by the way, no doubt about it."

"No!" Dean argued, spotting an old suitcase record player across the room and reluctantly letting go of the other man's hand that was still absentmindedly holding his to go and check it out. "I totally would've been a Gryffindor."

"So you did read the books?" Cas asked, brushing a finger through the fringe on the edge of the lampshade before sliding over and joining Dean where he had crouched over to fiddle with the record player, seeing if it had all of its parts and was worth buying. "Because if you did then you know that you would've been a Hufflepuff, its nothing to be embarrassed about."

"Says the guy who's convinced that he would be in the same house as Luna Lovegood," Dean scoffed. "Luna Lovegood is a fucking saint, man. You're like a Slytherin who the Sorting Hat might have thought about maybe putting in Ravenclaw if only you weren't such a jerk."

"Hufflepuffs are sweet," the punk said softly and Dean could feel those long fingers that he had only been thinking about nonstop since Cas had walked out of his house tangling in the short strands of hair at the nape of his neck. "Cedric Diggory was a Hufflepuff and he dated a Ravenclaw. They like balance each other out and shit. Kinda sucks that you think I'm a Slytherin."

"Well," Dean choked out, shaking off Cas's hand because he was already having a hard enough time not falling all over himself to give the punk whatever he wanted; even if it was just sex. They could banter and flirt, but it didn't change the fact that Cas hadn't called and left him hanging for a week; it was going to take more than hanging out together a couple of times for Dean to be truly convinced that the other man wanted anything more from him than a hookup. "Prove me wrong, Cas."

The punk let out a sigh behind him and moved off in a different direction and Dean watched him go, Minutemen t-shirt riding up to reveal the bottom of his wings when Cas stretched up to reach for a stuffed jackalope gaff that was on top of a nearby bookshelf. Fuck, Cas already had the wings; it wasn't really that much of a stretch to imagine the other man as a teenager in the blue and bronze robes of Hogwarts' most clever house. And Dean knew he was a fucking Hufflepuff, every online quiz he had ever taken as a young Potterhead had told him that.

**3\. The punk had a very...specific code of ethics.**

On Thursday, Dean decided to get out of the house as soon as he realized that his noise canceling headphones still weren't enough to block out the sounds of Sam groaning and asking for it harder, faster, deeper. Gabe had stayed the night and Meg had picked Cas up from BookPeople on Tuesday after the punk had bought and scheduled delivery for the wardrobe and old trio of folding stadium seats that he ended up buying for fifty bucks total. It had been kind of mesmerizing to watch Cas haggle down the owners for his purchases and Dean had spent his closing shift smirking as he remembered the other man bartering an old Emmylou Harris song in exchange for free delivery.

He hadn't seen the other man since Meg had dragged him away from where Cas had been holding books for him as he refilled an endcap; tossing a triumphant sneer over her shoulder as the punk allowed her to wrap a carefree arm around his shoulders and drag him away without any objections. They had barely talked since leaving the antique store, Dean with the scuffed suitcase record player under his arm and Cas with both hands shoved deep into the pockets of the cutoffs he had been wearing. He was pretty sure it had something to do with the Slytherin comment and since he hadn't spoken to or seen Cas in over a day he was pretty sure that he had touched on a raw nerve for the punk.

The worst part was Dean couldn't even call and apologize because Cas didn't have a cell phone and Gabriel was already at his house so he couldn't ask the other man to just hand over the phone to his brother. He didn't know if he had fucked everything up by being unwilling to let it go that Cas hadn't called him even though all of his reasons for not doing so made sense. Dean remembered what it was like looking for a job in a town where you hardly knew anyone; it sucked. And without Charlie's help he probably would've ended up with some shitty work study job in the cafeteria on campus or begging his parents for money that they didn't have.

He hoped that by the time that he had finished his usual circuit of Cheapo's that Sam and Gabe would be done and he could ask the other man for advice about his brother. Maybe even resort to threatening Sam with that horrifying life-sized clown statue that he had seen at Uncommon Objects if it got back to Cas how sprung Dean was. It felt like a solid plan, something that Gabe would probably agree to since he liked being in the know on gossip and schemes, and hell it was pretty much the only plan Dean had at this point. So he walked down the hill to Cheapo's and tried to shake off the melancholy that had been haunting him since he had woken up.

"Hey, handsome."

Dean's head shot up from where he had been despondently watching his navy Converse kicking up pebbles as he made his way down the hill to see Cas leaning in the same spot that Dean had first seen him. Lithe body stretched out in a swath of sunlight that was framing the spraypaint version of Louis Armstrong adorning the side of the building. The punk was wearing cut offs again, cuffed up right at his knees, and a plain black t-shirt that had it's sleeves cut off also; revealing the tips of Cas's wings curving over the tops of his shoulders. There was smoke curling out of his mouth and his lip ring was glinting and Dean just wanted to press him into the wall and lick the smirk off of his mouth because all of it was enough to make him seriously question why he was not blowing Cas right now.

Which just made him think of whether or not he would actually be able to deep throat Cas at all if they ever got back to that point, which just made his own cock perk up at the thought of getting to spend quality time with the punk's nether regions again, which just made Dean blush horribly once he realized that his mouth was too dry to actually respond to Cas's hello. God, how he had managed to convince the other man to sleep with him once was beyond him.

"I was just coming to see you," Cas continued, stubbing out his cigarette and flicking the butt on the ground; seemingly unaware of Dean's discomfort as he sauntered closer and dug a hand into his pocket. "I uh...I got you something."

"Yea?" Dean managed to blurt out as he forced his feet to move so that he could meet the punk in the middle of the short distance that separated them.

"Yea," the punk confirmed, rifling out his crushed pack of cigarettes that he handed to Dean as well as a lighter and before he found a small plastic wrapped package and handed it to Dean in exchange for the rest of his stuff back that he quickly stored away. "You said that record player just needed a new stylus, so I got you one."

"Aww, Cas. You really shouldn't have," Dean said softly, smiling in spite of himself as he blushed down at the cartridge in his hand; it was the right one he had needed and everything. He had blathered on about it in an effort to break the tense silence that had hung between him and the punk after his Slytherin comment on Tuesday, but he hadn't thought that Cas had actually been listening.

"It's fine," the other man said with a shrug as he ran a hand over the back of neck in a wholly self-conscious move that Dean wasn't used to seeing the punk make. "You have an awesome vinyl collection, I want you to be able to listen to it whenever you want. Plus, I totally lifted that from Waterloo yesterday when Meg and I were there so it's no big deal."

"You what?" Dean asked loudly, causing Cas to frown in confusion at him.

"I stole it," the punk explained slowly, glancing nervously around the nearly empty street that had already seen it's morning rush since Dean hadn't even intended on leaving the house today until Sam and Gabe had started boning in the room next to him. "Listen, it's no big deal. When I'm flush I'll go back and pay for one but leave it there; they won't even notice that it was missing."

"No," Dean said shaking his head because yea the whole stealing thing kind of bothered him, but the hanging out with Meg bothered him more. Not that he had any claim on Cas's time or anything, but the girl definitely had some sinister evil-villany type vibes wafting off of her every time Dean saw her. "I meant, if you don't like Meg then why are you hanging out with her?"

"Oh that," Castiel said with a grimace and a shake of his head before he grabbed Dean's hand and started leading him towards the front doors of Cheapo's. "Well, I fucking owe her and shit. She let me borrow her scooter for like a week when I was looking for a job and then she was the one who ended up getting me one in the end. So I'm working off my debt to her by hanging out with her and doing her laundry and stuff, I'm keeping track so that I can start telling her no once we're even."

"Keeping track…"

"Yea, I have a notebook I write all this shit down in so I don't forget," the punk explained, giving the girl manning the register a smile when he held the door open for Dean and they made their way down the aisle in a meandering fashion towards the records and 7"s that were at the back of the store. "Before I move away from somewhere I make sure I'm square in my notebook with everyone I owe shit to, that way if something happens I can at least go knowing I had a clean slate. Does that make sense?"

"Do you keep track of me in your notebook?" Dean asked softly, biting his lip as he mentally flew through the calculations of all of the times he had cooked or bought a coffee in the BookPeople cafe for the punk. Did mindblowing sex count as being owed? Because if anything Dean owed Cas for that one.

"No," Castiel replied evenly, settling in next to Dean when he stopped at the beginning of the record section and started calmly flipping through the 'A's; Dean's hands were shaking but he prayed the punk didn't notice. "I keep track of all of the important stuff up here."

Dean glanced over and saw Cas tapping his index finger to his temple, glancing meaningfully at Dean's lips for a moment before leaning in slightly and pausing. This was supposed to be when they kissed and Dean swooned all over the punk for calling him important; he had been with guys like that before. Guys who thought that a little compliment was enough to guarantee that Dean would continue topping them even though it wasn't really his thing, but he hadn't fallen for it then and he wasn't about to fall for that now. Even though he really really fucking wanted to; he had to catch himself before he let himself wilt into the punk's chest right there in the middle of the record store.

He sucked in a sharp breath and nodded before he turned back to the records, seeing the flash of disappointment on Castiel's face before the punk shrugged and fell in beside him to flip through the next row of records; bare bicep pressed against Dean's clothed one so that he could feel the twitch and release of Cas's muscles every time he paused at a promising looking album. They were quiet as they flipped through the records and Dean smirked everytime he saw the punk pausing over a band he vaguely recognized or rearranging the albums so that they were back in alphabetical order; it was a companionable kind of silence and it didn't take much for Dean to imagine that this was what it could be like if Cas found something in him worth staying for.

**4\. Cas had an eclectic and obscure taste in music that rivaled even Dean's.**

Which really shouldn't be as hot as it was, but it was rare that Dean found someone who could get on his level music-wise. I mean, it was Austin so finding another guy who thought that _Maladroit_ was as good or even possibly better than _Pinkerton_ wasn't _that_ much of a stretch, but most of the time the other party lost interest in the conversation and went back to the overly practiced flirting that made Dean's stomach turn over. It was the plight of being a twenty-something gay guy, no one was looking to have a genuine connection that lasted for longer than one night and therefore they didn't put as much effort into guys like Dean who were wanting something more than just a one-night stand.

But Cas…

"So you're telling me you've never even heard of Slint?" the punk asked him incredulously as he held up an LP that had a simple black cover with a picture of four men swimming in what looked like a quarry on it.

Dean shook his head and kept his index finger in place where he was flipping through the 'M's in search of the latest Bob Mould solo album that he hadn't felt like buying until now, turning his body so that it faced more towards the punk who was scrubbing a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Okayokay," Cas continued after letting out a heavy breath and taking a few steps closer towards Dean with the vinyl still in his hand. "You're a My Bloody Valentine fan, right?"

"Yea," Dean replied with a smirk, pushing his glasses up from where they had slipped down as he hunkered over the albums. "How did you know that?"

"I might have admired your record collection when I stayed the night," the punk said, waving his hand dismissively as he spoke like it wasn't a big deal that the other man seemed to just know things about Dean while Dean still knew next to nothing about Cas. "The point is, you need to own this album. If nothing else by them, get _Spiderland._ Listen to it and if you don't like it I will buy it off of you; I think I left my copy of this in Baltimore or maybe Cleveland. Either way, I wouldn't mind starting a collection again now that I'm living with someone who won't throw my shit out if they get mad at me. Well, Meg might, but she's fucking cra-"

"Okay, Cas." Dean interrupted, putting a hand over the other man's mouth because he was rambling and sounded dangerously out of breath. He couldn't help but wonder if the punk was always this excitable or if maybe being around him made Cas nervous somehow; the other man _had_ said he only talked a lot when he was nervous. "I'll buy the album, but I get to pick out something for you too."

He could feel the other man's smirk underneath his hand and Dean wanted to trace the shape of it with his fingers. Map out the divots and wrinkles in the punk's smile so that he could add the tactile sensation to the memories of the nipping kisses and soothing lave of tongue on his over-heated skin that had been haunting his dreams even more now that he knew exactly what it felt like. When he pulled his hand away, Cas sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and nibbled on his lip ring; nodding enthusiastically and uncharacteristically wide-eyed at Dean's suggestion. It was frankly, adorable and Dean turned back to his task before he could do something stupid like beg the punk to move in with him or marry him.

They spent the next two hours picking out LPs and 7"s for each other: Cas loading Dean down with more different types of punk than he had even known existed (what in the ever-loving fuck was Trallpunk?) and Dean finding a dusty, abused copy of _Major Taylor_ by Franklin as well as two different 7"s by God's Reflex that he would've bought for himself if he didn't already have them. He picked out significantly less for Cas, but Dean was going for quality as opposed to quantity; wanting to impress the punk with something fantastic that he hadn't heard before. After listening to Cas rattle off all of the places that he had lived as they shopped, Dean wasn't sure that anyone was up to the task of surprising the punk at all; not even him.

"So do you want to listen to these now?" Dean asked hopefully, wanting to see Cas's reaction to the music that he had picked for him as well as wanting to try out the new stylus for his new/old record player.

"What time is it?" Cas asked, trudging up the hill beside Dean with his own brown paper bag of vinyl tucked safely under his arm.

"It's like one," Dean replied after checking his cell phone for the time. "Do you have someone else to be?"

"Yea, actually," the punk replied apologetically when they reached Dean's driveway. "I have to go to this orientation thing for my new job, but um...were you going to karaoke with Charlie and Dor tomorrow?"

"That's not a th-" Dean started, intending to say that he didn't usually go to punk rock karaoke because it wasn't actually his scene and most of the time he just got hit on by obnoxious, closeted bros or girls who had severely malfunctioning gay-dar, but then he saw Cas's hopeful face and, okay. _Maybe_ it was too soon to be thinking that Cas had magically decided to stay in Austin just for him, but Dean was nothing if not a romantic at heart. "Yea, I could do that. I'll be late though, I have to close tomorrow. So it will be after eleven before I can get there, do you want me to pick you up?"

"Nah, I'll get Gabe to take me since he'll probably be heading this way to see Sam anyway. I think they're officially unofficial now, it's pretty nauseating."

"Yea," Dean agreed with a half-hearted shrug; how pathetic was it that he wanted people to refer to him and Cas as nauseating? "But I'll come and have a beer or two with you."

"Great," Cas replied with a bright smile before heading towards the house. "Now let's see if we can get my fucking brother up so that he can take me to work."

**5\. As shitty as it was, if they never became anything more, Cas made an excellent wingman.**

Work had been fucked; there had been not nearly enough caffeine involved and somehow Crowley had managed to receive like a week's worth of shit by the end of his own work day. So Dean was left stocking cart after cart of magazines; pulling the old ones and stripping the covers so that Crowley could do a huge return on Monday when he came back after his weekend off. Must be nice being the king of the backroom.

On top of that there had been a minor explosion of early reader's books in the Children's section when a group of moms met to knit in the cafe and proceeded to let their fourth graders run wild all over the store. It had taken Dean and Aaron over an hour to clean up the mess and by the time they left Lisa was cranky because her babysitter hadn't stopped texting her threats about leaving the manager's five year old in the ER with Lisa's boyfriend (a resident med student at St. David's in South Austin) so that she could go to a foam party. They were all grumpy and Dean just wanted to see Cas, have a beer, and fuck it, maybe give in and just make out with the punk already because he deserved it after the utter shit his day had been.

But when he got there and found Charlie perched at the end of the bar, watching Dor whip out cocktails like she could do it in her sleep and idly spinning her straw in what looked like a glass of soda, Cas was no where to be found. So Dean ordered a beer and shook his head when Charlie asked if he was going to sing again (once had been enough for a lifetime); tugging on the hem of an old Beat Happening shirt that he had brought back from home after his last trip in an effort to make it the right length. He'd left his cardigan in the car since it had gotten balmy after the sun went down, but the t-shirt was one he had gotten his junior year in high school, before his last growth spurt and even in a pair of grey shorts that weren't skin tight it didn't fit exactly right.

"Did you see Cas?" Dor yelled to him when she delivered his beer, popping the top with her bar key and sliding it into a koozie that Charlie had just magically produced from the back pocket of her shorts.

Dean shook his head and took a sip of his beer, eyes scanning the crowd for the punk as he fidgeted with his shirt and a fairly tone-deaf guy on the stage belted out an enthusiastic rendition of _Basket Case_ by Green Day. It wasn't until he turned his back to the crowd a couple of minutes later that he felt a hand skim across his shoulders; he relaxed into the touch because Dor and Charlie were sitting right in front of him so it could only be Cas touching him in such a familiar way. After a week of getting to know the other man outside of a bar while not being even the slightest bit intoxicated, Dean was willing to give the other man anything he asked for even if Cas couldn't give him anything back in return.

"Mind if I buy you a drink?" A voice whispered in his ear as the hand settled low on his back near where his shirt was riding up to show his skin; it wasn't Cas's voice.

The gust of sour breath on his ear nearly made him jump out of his skin, caused Dean to choke and sputter on the mouthful of beer that he had been attempting to swallow as he spun around in an effort to dislodge the stranger's hand from his back. It was a guy standing behind him, which was both a relief and also worse because he didn't like hurting girls' feelings, but if he told another guy he wasn't interested they tended to get either hyper-masculine and homophobic or turn into bitchy queens; neither of with he particularly wanted to deal with after the day he was trying to unwind from.

"I'm uh...I'm good," Dean managed to mumble as the stranger's eyes roved over him, taking in the spaceship logo on his shirt and the nervous way he pushed up his glasses with a wry, unpleasant twist to his mouth. "Thanks though, maybe another time."

"How about I just order you one now and by the time it gets here you tell me your name? Maybe give me your phone number?" The other man pressed, moving in close between Dean's knees where he was sitting on a barstool caddy-corner from Charlie.

He was a typical bro, the kind of guy that Dean avoided like the plague because they all reminded him of the guys that picked on him in high school. As shitty as it sounded he often had a hard time looking past the backwards baseball caps and polos and swagger to get to the person underneath. Dor told him that the panicky tightness he felt in his chest anytime he got cornered by a guy who resembled one of his former tormentors was probably triggering; she wanted to be a psychologist and her opinion was the closest to professional he had ever gotten on the matter so Dean tended to just take her word for it. Jo had told him that some of those guys might be perfectly nice, which Dean could agree might be true, but so far this guy was not acting like a nice guy. Pushy was the word that came to mind.

"I'm kinda...here with someone," Dean lied, wishing it were true because he was willing to bet that Cas was all kinds of possessive in a wholly sexy way when it came to the guys that he dated.

"Well he's dumb to leave you here by yourself," the other guy continued, uncaring of Dean's obvious discomfort when he placed a hand on Dean's leg above his knee, letting his thumb brush down along the inside of his thigh.

"There you are, baby," Castiel growled, appearing out of nowhere to plaster himself against Dean's side; moving seamlessly to press a sucking kiss against his throat in a way that was territorial and obvious and unexpected and welcome as fucking hell. "Took you long enough, thought you'd miss seeing me play."

Dean frowned in confusion as he turned towards the punk, letting out a sigh of relief when the pushy stranger took his hand off his knee and took a step back. "You mean sing? You're going to sing again?"

"No Krissy's sick," Cas muttered, leaning into nose along Dean's jaw because clearly the bro wasn't taking the hint that Dean wasn't fucking interested because he was just standing there staring at them. "Benny called Gabe and asked if I would fill in for her; it kinda sucks actually. I didn't know how much I missed playing until the other night, now I just wanna play for y-"

"Dude, if I were you I wouldn't leave a hot piece like that sitting around alone," the bro interjected, arms crossed disapprovingly over his chest as he crinkled his nose at the way that Cas had pressed almost his entire front against Dean's side, fitting comfortably under the arm that Dean didn't even remember lifting to accommodate the punk beside him. "Someone with a little class might walk by and take an interest."

"Lucky for me," Cas replied nonchalantly, barely turning his face away from Dean as he spoke to the other man; seemingly content to sneak his hand under the back of Dean's shirt where he rubbed firm soothing circles into the small of his back. "My boyfriend likes to slum it, now if you wouldn't mind fucking off; that would be fantastic."

"Fucking gutter-punk," the man scoffed scornfully before digging his hand into his pocket and producing a slightly bent business card that he pressed down onto the bar behind Dean's shoulder; leaning in close as he dropped his voice in what he probably thought was a seductive way. "If you decide to stop dating down, give me a call darlin'."

Dean ignored the stranger until he left, deciding that he would remain calmer if he leaned into Cas who had pressed his mouth on the hinge of Dean's jaw and was just muttering soothing nonsense that he couldn't even hear over the pounding of his blood in his ears. After though, he let out a full body shudder of revulsion and glanced over his shoulder to see Charlie already ripping up the business card and shoving it into his mostly empty beer which Dor promptly took and dropped into the trash on the other side of the bar as she gave him a sympathetic smile. She was probably the only one he had talked to about all of the shit that he had actually dealt with in high school, the both of them being insomniacs who bonded over their shared experience with bullying and their love of Eddie Izzard.

"Dick," Cas declared beside him, glaring off into the crowd in what Dean assumed was the direction the stranger had gone off in before turning back to Dean with a guarded expression on his face. "And uh...sorry about all that. I couldn't think of any other way to get rid of him, besides punching him in the face and I think the band would be pissed if they didn't get paid for the full night because they didn't have a guitarist."

Dean frowned in confusion for a second as he tried to puzzle out what the punk could possibly be apologizing for before it hit him: Cas was sorry for saying he was Dean's boyfriend.

"Oh," Dean said disappointedly, letting out a huff when the punk slipped out from under his arm and moved his hand up to the less erogenous area of his shoulders; assuming the friendly, casual position that he had used all week when they had been hanging out in public. It wasn't proprietary like he had thought it was, it wasn't anything; just Cas being tactile. His tactile, hot as fuck friend who was sorry that people looked at them and thought they were dating. "I uh...I didn't mind. I mean, that's what friends do for each other right? Anytime you need me do the same, just uh...yea."

"Right," the other man replied with a shrug, jostling Dean's shoulder a bit as Benny waved an arm in their direction and pointed towards the stage; signaling that the break for the band was over. Dean hadn't even realized that the music had stopped in the first place. "I'm kinda pissed that he took 'darlin' away from me though. I've been listening to a lot of country music lately, was kinda looking forward to calling you that."

Dean put on a thin smile and tried very hard to not cry because that was one of his favorite things about the punk; how he just called Dean gorgeous and handsome and sweetheart like it was no big deal, like they were a couple that had been together for years. "I can safely say that you calling me that will probably not make me want to throw up. So don't write it off just yet, 'kay?"

"Yea," Cas replied, sounding slightly dazed before he swooped down and pressed a more chaste kiss in his usual fashion against Dean's cheek, closer to his lips yea but he should really stop reading so much into the other man's actions all the time. "Hey, uh. Stick around and I'll make it worth your while, alright? I'll play you a song or something."

Cas didn't end up playing him a song, mostly because the band was playing karaoke songs up until Dor flipped on the house lights and rang the bell for last call as loud as she could so that it could be heard in the still raucously packed bar. But the punk promised to play him something special as soon as he found out if his old roommates could ship him his guitar from the basement that it was apparently stored in in Baltimore. Dean tried very hard not to think of it as being a big deal that Cas wanted to play just for him because the punk went as far as to say he was so out of practice that it was probably better if he didn't embarrass himself by playing the song he wanted to do in front of a huge, drunken, belligerent crowd.

But when Cas wrapped him in a long hug that was exactly what he hadn't known he needed in order to erase his shitty, horrible day, Dean realized that the fine line between friendship and being head over fucking heels in love with the other man was so far in his rearview mirror that he couldn't even see it anymore. So it sucked, that Cas didn't want him that way, but if the punk left because Dean wasn't enough of a reason to stay...well, then it was going to feel just as shitty if Dean did have sex with him until then as it would if he didn't. So he might as well get as much fantasy material out of this as he could before Cas left. Right?

* * *

Castiel learned a lot of not so important things about Dean over the course of the week that they spent together after he fucked it all up by not calling.

Dean liked junk food, but he tended to eat more salads and vegetables if Sam made a crack about his weight or if he had recently talked to one of his family members. He drank IPAs with meals and Lone Star or Shiner Bock if he just wanted to drink for the sake of drinking. His favorite color was purple, but he would probably never admit that to anyone. Vonnegut was his favorite author, his favorite movie was Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless mind, and his favorite bands were ever-changing, but Sunny Day Real Estate was forever in his top five. He knew how he drank his coffee and how he didn't mind the fact that Cas smoked, but still stayed upwind when he did (he was pretty sure that was something subconscious).

From Sam he learned that Dean had been valedictorian of his high school, that he was a business major with a minor in economics, and that during the school year he was usually too busy and too stressed to remember to eat or sleep. Dorothy told him that Dean had been bullied a lot in high school, that several of the guys who had swirlied the other man had been caught up in sex related scandals after graduating, and how it made Dean sad that they had hated who they were enough to take it out on him. Charlie told him Dean liked comic books and Star Wars, the former of which he knew next to nothing about outside of the strips that appeared in Razorcake or Maximum Rock N' Roll and the latter which anyone who had any self-respect knew about because shit, its not like he had lived under a rock his entire life. Gabe told him that Dean looked like some guy called Colby Keller who turned out to be a porn star who happened to also be an artist and have a bachelor's in anthropology, which seemed fitting in a weird roundabout way.

He learned enough about Dean to feel more than a little bit like a stalker as he sat in his mostly empty bedroom with a kitchen chair wedged under the doorknob in order to keep Meg out as he logged back into his mostly forgotten Facebook account and found the other man on the social networking site. Cas had avoided the site like the plague since leaving Denver over two years earlier, mostly because Daphne's mom hadn't taken down her page yet and he was tired of seeing notifications of condolences and memorials popping up on his news feed, but also because after taking an unhealthy amount of acid and hopping the first plane to Hawaii he was not well-liked by many of the people who were still inexplicably listed under as 'friends' on the website.

But he still found Dean on the site and only hesitated about 0.5 seconds before sending a friend request to the other man so that he could see the pictures and information that the Dean had marked as private. Because he wanted to know more, as much as he could; more than he should because yea, he had learned an awful fucking lot about Dean in the last week or so since the other man had crashed unexpectedly back into his life with the force of a fucking tsunami. But all of it only highlighted the fact that Cas learned one and only one thing about himself in that time also; something that had been there before, but he really hadn't ever expected to deserve to feel again.

Cas learned that he wasn't as dead inside as he thought he was, because if he was how could he be falling for a shy, sweet, adorable, fucking Hufflepuff of a dork like Dean Smith?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I included a sniplett from Cas's POV...thoughts? Any thoughts whatsoever, I'll be updating the playlist that goes along with this fic on tumblr tomorrow so if you're interested in that come visit me there at itspronounceddeathsteel; I'd love to be tumblr buddies with you. Let's talk fandom together! XOXO


	10. never trust a man without a horribly embarrassing secret (or this is a song title and idgaf)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Just because something 'happens', because it is 'true', because the 'facts' are correct, does not ensure that it is the truth.” ― John Waters, _Jiving At The Crossroads_

Wednesdays for Dean usually revolved around one thing, comics.

Before moving to Texas it had been his way of connecting to other people, mostly the other awkward guys at his own small hometown comic books shop, but the patience and kindness that they had shown to his chubby, terrorized 8-year old self had always stuck with him and as a result Austin Books and Comics felt a little bit like home. It helped that everyone who worked there knew their shit and Dean was pleasantly surprised to find himself having stimulating arguments with each and every employee about the subtext and art found within every 24-page bundle of glossy printed paper.

He preferred superhero comics: Batman, Wonder Woman, and Blue Beetle were his DC favorites and he found it funny that his equal love of The Avengers and the X-Men baffled those who vehemently embodied the rivalry between the two companies. _Astonishing X-Men_ #51 had been right there in his pull list along with _Before Watchmen Comedian_ #1 and _Star Wars Dawn of the Jedi Force Storm_ #5 back in high school and it was his hope to eventually get his variant cover edition by Marko Djurdjevic signed despite the artist's split with Marvel.

Dean had a couple of different comic book buddies in Austin. Charlie, of course, was his main partner when picking up his pull list; she preferred less traditional comics like _Chew_ with its gritty new-age take on noir and _Saga_ that was almost its complete opposite with its futuristic, fairy tale like sci-fi setting. Garth was his superhero brother from another mother, even though the man had a soft spot for Superman that Dean had never fully understood. And probably most surprisingly, Aaron, whose love of comics had been one of the things that had caused Dean to have a crush on his coworker in the first place. Aaron liked horror comics: _Locke & Key, Crossed, _and more than a few legitimately terrifying Japanese comics that Dean couldn't even get past the first page of.

More often than not they would end up in the cafe of Book People on Thursdays at some point to discuss the current issues of their favorites and to switch recommendations with each other. He hadn't ever had that with a group of people before, that camaraderie that came with indulging in a hobby that most other people though was childish but was really the most underrated form of art that Dean had ever seen. Ed and Harry had always smiled and indulged his rants about the lack of representation in comic books, but they hadn't understood it like Charlie and Aaron and Garth who each had their own wish lists of things they wanted to see in comics. A queer, Jewish, hearing-impaired main character would just solve all of their problems.

Very rarely the stars aligned so that they were all off at the same time on a Wednesday so they could meet at the comic book store, but it did happen. The Wednesday after Dean realized that despite his noble intentions he still very much wanted to jump Cas's bones as hard and often as humanly possibly was one such mystical Wednesday. He and his friends spent the majority of the morning lazily perusing the aisles of the comic book store, finding pleasure in the simple act of discovering something exciting and new in the well-stocked, orderly bins. He walked out of the store with more than what was just on his pull list, but seeing of a copy of _Punk Rock Jesus_ reminded him of Cas and brought their last interaction back into the forefront of his mind.

Maybe his friends sensed the sudden change in his mood or maybe they just really wanted to see the movie themselves, but it was a unanimous agreement upon leaving Austin Books and Comics that they would go see _Captain America 2: The Winter Soldier_ which was still holding on valiantly at the Alamo Drafthouse box office. The Lamar location was the midway point between all three of their houses and despite being shuffled into one of the smaller theaters, the only thing that could have made the afternoon better would be the rest of his friends showing up to take over the stadium seats that were mostly empty save for two girls, one with long strawberry blonde hair and the other with a short dark bob, sitting a few rows in front of where they eventually chose to sit.

It was honestly the way that Dean usually preferred to see a movie at a theater, as a self-admitted armrest hog it was easier to avoid knocking a stranger's drink out of their hand if the seat on at least one of his sides was open. So he ended up at one end of their group with Aaron on his right hand side, mostly because they had decided to share an appetizer and it would just being easier in the long run to not have to reach around Charlie or Garth to get to the spinach artichoke dip. His former crush on the other man didn't play a factor into their seating arrangement because honestly now that Dean had met Cas...it was almost unfair to compare two men to each other.

Dean was browsing the new specials when he heard Charlie let out a surprised laugh down at the other end of their group. He had just about talked himself into the avocado and pesto burger because Sam had made a crack about love handles when he was sunbathing with Dor on Sunday so a burger that didn't include bacon was probably the more responsible decision.

"Do you mind if we raise this?" Aaron asked, squirming uncomfortably in his seat as he gestured at the armrest separating him and Dean. "Garth's all elbows all the time over here and my ribs can't take two hours of this, dude."

Dean nodded at the other man, craning his neck to see what Charlie was quietly, but excitedly pointing out to Garth. She seemed to be happy to see their servers, which the feeling was mutual because the grapefruit with cottage cheese that he had begrudgingly eaten for breakfast was just not cutting it. He could make out two figures standing in the shrouded alcove where the servers kept all of their mystery waiter things: utensils, ketchup...napkins? Dean was reaching that slightly loopy point of being hungry where his thoughts had stopped making sense so yea, a pesto burger even with those weird ass bean sprouts as going to be perfect.

The pre-previews consisted of snippets from old Captain America cartoons as well as various Marvel related things; a clip of Jeremy Renner's appearance on SNL, Scarlett Johansson laying down the law in response to sexist questions at a convention panel, a spoof video showcasing the butts of each and every Avenger including Coulson, Hill, and Fury. Which was probably why the pair of servers managed to sneak up on him since Chris Evan's glutes in that tight spandex was truly a wonder to behold.

"Good afternoon everyone," an accented male voice said from down near Charlie and when Dean turned towards the sound he was immediately grateful that it was dim enough in the theater that no one could probably see his blush over being caught ogling by the only person he currently wanted to ogle the fuck out of. "My name is Balthazar and this is Castiel, he will be training with me today. Are all of you familiar with how things work here?"

Dean nodded his acquiescence dumbly, insides going all gelatin soft when Cas smirked at him over Balthazar's shoulder and gave him a subtle wink. The punk looked better than was probably reasonable in his dark maroon Alamo Drafthouse t-shirt and tight dark wash jeans that were held up with his now familiar studded belt, there was a short apron stocked with wrapped straws and an embossed shiny leather order book that had a sticker of a grimacing face stuck crookedly onto one corner.

"Brilliant," the trainer guy whose name Dean had already forgotten because he was just too busy looking at Cas looking amusedly at him. "Well, since this is such as sparse showing then I'll let Cassie take the lead, but feel free to raise a flag if you need me."

"Hey guys," the punk said confidently, whipping out his order book along with a pink Hello Kitty pencil that he had had tucked out of sight behind his ear as he stepped around Balthazar who was eying the two girls ahead of them with a vague air of disinterest. "Guess this is only fair since I loiter around the bookstore all the time, huh?"

Charlie grinned at the other man as she teased him about his tip while Garth and Aaron greeted Cas with polite hellos since they were less familiar with the punk; Dean had introduced them so that they wouldn't kick Cas out for hanging around BookPeople while Dean was working, but that was about the extent of their interactions with him. All Dean could focus on was the way the punk's blue eyes kept flickering over to him even as he took the orders of everyone else in their group while Balthazar kept a watchful eye of the proceedings, asking the little questions of the diners that Cas wasn't used to proactively asking. Do you need ketchup with that? Would you like lemon in your water? Ranch or Italian dressing?

"And Dean and I want the artichoke dip to share, right Dean-o?" Aaron asked, knocking his knee against Dean's as he spoke and causing Castiel's gaze to fall to where the armrest was raised between them and how their hips were pressed against each other as they both sprawled comfortably in their respective seats.

"Yea, that's fine," Dean said quickly, not missing the way that Cas's expression fell for just a second before the punk nodded and jotted down Aaron's order on his notepad. "Hey you didn't tell me you were working here, but I would be eating every meal here if you did so I guess you were doing my waistline a favor."

It was a shitty joke and Cas's weak smile told Dean that it wasn't exactly what the punk had been expecting to hear.

"Your waistline is fine," the punk admonished softly, looking expectantly at Dean with his pencil poised over his paper until a suddenly wry smirk replaced the downward twist of his lips. "But let me guess...you're getting the healthiest looking burger on the menu?"

"Maybe," Dean answered, shooting for flirtatious, but just sounding uncertain instead as he fumbled for his menu that he had already put away because what was the most healthy burger again? Maybe he should just do a salad.

"How about the avocado and pesto one?" Cas suggested with an amused raised eyebrow before he glanced at Aaron who was already talking to Garth about _The Walking Dead_ which he was still trying to convince the other man to read. "I mean, if its not too forward of me to make a suggestion. Don't want to step on anyone's toes…"

"What toes?" Dean corrected quickly, scooting as far away from Aaron as possible because he was pretty sure that he knew what idea was floating around the punk's head; it was the exact wrong idea. "But yea, um...that's the burger I wanted. I'm not a big fan of sprouts, but hopefully it will offset the fries."

The punk just shook his head fondly and wrote down Dean's order, glancing back at Balthazar for approval before promising to be back soon with their drinks and starters. Dean watched as the two servers repeated the whole procedure with the girls ahead of them and tried to ignore the way they immediately bent their heads together conspiratorially after Cas left them with a parting smile.

The house lights had dimmed and the actual previews had started by the time Dean noticed that Cas and Balthazar were making their way back up the stairs with several trays of drinks balanced between them. Cas stopped with the smaller tray and delivered a set of drinks as well as an appetizer to the girls and Dean figured that he must be imagining the way that the strawberry blonde leaned forward to brush her hand over the punk's as he set their drinks down onto the wooden bar top.

"Spinach dip for the couple," Balthazar mumbled under his breath as he settled the platter of chips and dip in front of where Dean and Aaron were sitting.

Dean's water and Aaron's beer followed suit as he moved steadily down the aisle dropping off loaded fries and sodas to Charlie and Garth before Dean could even formulate something that he could possibly say to correct the stranger's wrong assumption. More so he wanted to let Cas know that he _was not_ on a date with Aaron because he would much rather be sharing fried pickles with Cas in a darkened movie theater than eating chips and dip with his coworker anywhere.

But all too soon the movie was starting in earnest and the opportunity to converse with Cas without disrupting anyone was gone. Their food arrived around the same time that Director Fury started getting shot at and Dean was not distracted enough by the action and gunfire and sheer awesomeness of the stunts to miss the fact that Cas seemed to be avoiding their group. The punk was lingering at the bottom of the stairs anytime he wasn't waiting on the two exceedingly needy girls and Dean couldn't see the other man expression, but he knew that Cas wasn't watching the movie.

Dean could only bring himself to pick at his fries as he watched the movie because even though he couldn't see the bean sprouts he knew they were there and that would just be the cherry on top of the gross series of misunderstandings that his morning off was turning into. Aaron seemed to be enjoying his carnivore pizza though so Dean wasn't about to interrupt the other man's Marvel-driven euphoria to talking about his feelings even though he really really wanted to.

Fuck, maybe getting Winter Soldier'd was the way to go. Then he could just forget about Cas and go on with his life.

The comedic gold that was Captain America simply waltzing into HYDRA infiltrated S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters was interrupted by a jarring buzz abruptly going off against Dean's leg. Aaron cursed softly beside him and scrambled to retrieve his phone before cupping the device in his hand so that the screen wouldn't flare so blindingly bright, Muriel's face was illuminated on the screen and even in the dark Dean could see how the other man smiled fondly at the candid photo before gesturing that he needed to get past Dean and out of the aisle.

"Yea, baby hold on just a sec…" Aaron murmured softly, tripping down the stairs and past Cas who was returning with another refill of drinks for the girls who had all but waved Balthazar away when the other server had tried to help them earlier.

Dean tried to pay attention to Steve and Bucky's heart wrenching reunion, but he couldn't miss the way that Cas hesitated in the stairway after quickly escaping the two girls; glancing over his shoulder to the hallway that branched off the stairs where Dean assumed Aaron had gone to take his call. He fidgeted in his seat as the punk stealthily made his way up the stairs to slip into the seat next to him; working his own tattooed forearm onto the narrow portion of space that Dean wasn't using on the armrest so that he could lean over and rest his chin on Dean's shoulder.

"So this is weird..." Cas mumbled close to his ear, voice pitched to a low grumble that blended in with explosions and general chaos going on in the film above them. The warm gust of breath over his chilled skin made Dean shiver and he forced all thoughts of Cas kissing his neck out of his mind because yea, that was a little weird; this not nearly as much.

"I wish you had told me your new job was here," Dean muttered in reply, sinking deeper into the seat when he felt the tip of Cas's fingers tracking across his wrist. "I would have come by to see you sooner."

"It's better this way," the punk sighed cryptically, clearing his throat quickly as he snatched his hand away from Dean's skin. "I just...I pretty much promised our head chef anything he wanted if he made you a burger sans sprouts and the dude looks like the walking embodiment of death so please don't make me take it back to the kitchen."

"Oh," Dean said reaching forward to lift the top bun off of his burger so that he could inspect it for wayward Asian ingredients. "So there is just lettuce then?"

"Jules said he was going to put kale, it supposed to be a super food or something. All the health," Castiel explained, suddenly slipping out of his seat next to Dean so that he could crawl underneath the bar top to stand on the other side; glancing nervously towards the stairs as he did so. "Anyway, I'll uh...I'll leave you to it. Talk to you later, Dean."

The punk's sudden departure was explained by Aaron meandering dazedly up the aisle towards their seats, a silly grin on his face as he bumped into Cas who was making his way down. Dean noticed the tense set of the punk's shoulders when confronted with his coworker and felt his stomach rebel against the thought of trying to eat the burger that Cas had gotten made special just for him. God, he shouldn't have told Cas that he only wanted to be friends because it was so terribly untrue.

Aaron waved off the questions that Garth had about where he had gone and just gave Charlie and Dean a slightly loopy looking thumbs up when they looked askance at him; gesturing towards the screen and the aftermath of Natasha blowing S.H.I.E.L.D. out of the water. Cas didn't come back to wait on them for the rest of the movie and Dean made a concentrated effort to eat as much of his burger as he could stomach, it was fucking delicious.

Everyone knows about the secret scenes at the end of Marvel movies. Everyone apparently except for the two girls sitting ahead of their group who started immediately chattering about how cute Sam Wilson was and how Anthony Mackie better be in the next movie while packing up their stuff. Dean thought about calling out to warn them that they were probably going to miss something epic if they didn't stay, but then Cas walked up to finish clearing away their dishes and the strawberry blonde reached out a hand to stop him.

It may have been unrealistic, but Dean saw red just a little bit and did his level best to ignore the flirtatious smile that Cas was directing at the stranger. He couldn't turn off his hearing though.

"What are you doing after work?" the girl asked in a breathy, high pitched voice that made Dean grit his teeth because she hadn't been talking like that just a second ago before Cas showed up. "Maybe we could get a drink at The Highball? Bowl a couple of frames?"

"I'm actually working all day," the punk replied apologetically, rubbing his free hand that wasn't full of dishes over the back of his neck sheepishly so that the tattoo on his forearm contorted with the muscles under his skin.

Dean thought he saw Castiel glance up at him, but he was too busy focusing on Garth and Charlie gushing over their favorite fight scenes in the movie to pay attention.

"Well let me give you my number," the girl continued, reaching out to snatch the pencil that was sticking out of Cas's apron before handing it back a couple of moments later along with her copy of her receipt. "Call me when you're free, we won't go watch a movie. I promise."

The punk barked out a laugh and shoved the proffered paper in his pocket, looking up at Dean for sure this time before Cas smiled one last time at the girls and made to carefully carry his armful of empty dishes down the stairs. Dean had given up any pretense of paying attention to his friends in favor of seeing how Cas reacted to being come on to which was why he missed hearing exactly what it was that Aaron said that made Charlie let out an unearthly, excited shriek from her end of the aisle; the redhead vaulting over Garth's lap to wrap Aaron in a hug that looked like it could break a couple of ribs.

"What did I miss?" Dean asked, looking over the writhing pair who were seated next to him to see Garth grinning goofily.

"Murpherls pruent," came Aaron's muffled reply from where he was trapped underneath Charlie's armpit as she tried to reach her arms out wide enough to drag Dean and Garth into the hug. "Mmg'be dad."

"Translation?" Dean asked Garth, glancing nervously at Balthazar as he showed up to take their plates away as well; the waiter pausing with an alarmed look on his face when Aaron started making noises that sounded like sobbing into Charlie's hair.

"Muriel's pregnant," Garth explained simply, clapping Aaron on the shoulder in congratulations. "She called during the movie, doctor confirmed it."

"Congratulations, man!" Dean exclaimed, wrapping his own arms around Charlie and Aaron for a few seconds in an effort to soothe his coworker who seemed to be having a minor meltdown over the whole thing. "Jesus, what is wrong with you, dude?"

"I"m gonna be a dad," Aaron choked out, pulling his face away from Charlie long enough to grab a random napkin that Balthazar had surreptitiously left behind once he had gathered their dishes. "I'm not adult for this, I'm gonna be a shitty father."

"The absolute shittiest," Charlie agreed, smiling at him with wet eyes when he laughed at her and made to push her out of his lap and onto the floor. "But Muriel is going to rock the mom thing so it will balance out."

"God, I hope so," Aaron muttered, wiping a hand over his face tiredly as Charlie gave him one last squeeze before crawling out of his lap. "I just love her so fucking much, y'know? I don't tell her that enough. I should tell her more."

"Yea, you should," Charlie agreed, kicking Dean fairly hard with the pointy toe of her flat before tilting her head purposefully towards where Balthazar had stopped at the foot of the stairs with his dishes to talk to Cas who was looking concernedly in their direction. "Before its too late, you should tell her right now. You hear me, right the fuck now."

"Fine, I'll call her," Aaron said beside him, reaching for his phone in his pocket. "But I better not miss the secret scene."

"Oh, those priorities," Garth said congenially as Dean got out of his seat as quietly as he could and made his descent down the stairs.

He found the punk being shown the intricacies of the digital order system by Balthazar, watching with a confused look on his face as the other man showed him how to split tickets and add gratuity to a total. It looked super complicated and Dean hesitated because he didn't want to interrupt the two men if Cas was supposed to be learning this stuff for work.

"If someone wants a substitution that isn't listed in the menu," Balthazar explained, pulling up a whole color-coded screen that Dean would need literally days to figure out and indicating it with a grand wave of his hand. "Politely tell them that they can shove it, but if all else fails, flirt. Most people will let it go if you're charming enough, but you seem to already have that part figured out."

"It's not my first time waiting tables," Cas replied with a shrug, reaching into his pocket while Dean watched and pulling out a crumpled receipt that he could only assume had the strawberry blonde's number scrawled on it. "Speaking of, do you want this?"

"The brunette?" Balthazar asked, taking the paper and glancing at it as he waited for Castiel to answer with a shake of his head. The other man tutted to himself and wadded up the receipt, tossing it into a nearby trashcan. "Pity. I have a type, but I suspect you do too. Maybe yours are skewed towards blonde and muscled, however I wouldn't go telling your customers that because it will certainly cut into your tips."

"Dude, I have to wash Julian's Cadillac," Cas replied with a groaned, covering his eyes with his hand as he leaned back against the sound dampening walls of the theater. "If I fuck up his car, he will literally kill me."

It was about that time that Balthazar caught sight of Dean eavesdropping in the shadows and nodded at him knowingly before giving Cas a consoling pat on the shoulder and starting off towards the theater's exit with the cart full of dirty dishes that was waiting next to their prep station.

"Hey Cas," Dean said softly, stepping into the circle of light that illuminated the prep station so that the punk who had look up startled when he spoke could see him. "So um...how are you liking the new job?"

"It's good," Castiel replied slowly, frowning in confusion as he crossed his arms tightly over his chest before taking a step closer to Dean. "How are you...um...did you like your burger?"

"Yea! It was good, better without the sprouts. Thanks for that…by the way…"Dean trailed off awkwardly, unsure of whether or not he could just blurt out the fact that he was pretty sure he was falling in love with Cas without it sounding weird or out of place.

"Of course," Cas said just as awkwardly, glancing behind Dean and biting his lip before taking another, hesitant step closer to him. "So uh...is this the first date then?"

"No," Dean replied quickly, reaching out to put a hand on the other man's folded arms, but stopping. He didn't know if Castiel was jealous or just concerned or maybe morbidly curious about why someone like Aaron would want someone like him, but now didn't feel like the time to be making declarations of affection; it would sound desperate and disingenuous. "Aaron's not...we're not...I uh...I'm not exactly in the market to start something new right now."

"Oh yea," Cas said sounding both relieved and disappointed and Dean didn't know if he would ever be able to figure out the way the other man's brain worked. "Well...good. Because dinner and a movie is a super lame first date anyway; I could do better in my sleep."

"Maybe I should just give you my number then and let you sleep on it," Dean joked half-heartedly, hoping the statement didn't come out as bitter as it tasted.

"Maybe you should," the punk mumbled softly, glancing up at Dean through his eyelashes before suddenly plunging his hand into one of the pockets of his form fitting jeans and producing a black flip phone that he held out in Dean's direction. "Seriously though, give me your number so that we can hang out or something. I didn't hear from you all weekend, I thought I had done something at karaoke to piss you off."

"No, I was just busy with work stuff," Dean explained, his stomach twisting guiltily from the half-lie because he _had_ been busy, just not so much that he hadn't found time to sit in his room most of Sunday listening to the records Cas had picked out for him and moping. "But when did you get this? I thought cell phones were the devil."

The punk just rolled his eyes and nudged the phone against Dean's arm, "Just don't leave me any ten minute drunken voice mails or I'll block your number. Texting's okay though, anything you send me will be a million times better than Gabe's puns or my grandmother's mass religious spam."

"I don't know," Dean said seriously, taking the device and quickly sending a message to himself so that he could have the punk's number as well. He felt his phone vibrate in response as he was adding in the rest of his information to Cas's contacts list which now included Dean, Gabriel, Meg, someone named Maimeo, and Balthazar. "I could send you nothing but cat videos and cryptic emojis. I'm sure that would really make you regret giving me your number."

"Then I'll just reply with dick picks and bad pickup lines," Cas stated with a shrug and Dean had to remind himself that the punk was probably being sarcastic when an unexpected bolt of lust laced down his spine. But the other man just arched an eyebrow challengingly at him instead of saying that he was kidding like Dean expected Cas to do.

"Oh-okay," Dean managed to get out after he had cleared his throat, handing the phone back to the punk who's smirk only got wider when Dean jumped as their fingers brushed together. "I should...uh...get back to everyone. They'll never let me hear the end of it if I miss the secret scene."

"Yea," Cas agreed, a sudden blush tinging his cheeks before he turned away from Dean and picked up a tray of dirty glasses that had been perched next to the order station. "I've seen it already so I'll text you later or something 'kay?"

"Sure," Dean breathed towards the other man's retreating form, only putting two and two together later when Charlie made fun of him for gushing over Sebastian Stan and said something about how Dean really did have a type.

Cocky, mysterious guys with a penchant for eyeliner and murder...okay, maybe just eyeliner. Yea, it was safe to say he had a type.

* * *

"Who ya talkin' to?" Gabriel sing-songed, flopping down onto the couch next to Castiel wearing just a pair of short yellow running shorts and fanning himself with a hand held fan made out of a paper plate glued to a tongue depressor. "Must be someone special if you're awake this early..."

"I have to be at work at nine," Cas replied shortly, tucking his phone underneath his leg on the opposite side of where his brother was sitting and reaching for the television remote so that he could flip away from MTV that had started showing its latest insipid reality show to VH1 that was showing its latest take on pop-up videos; equally inspired, but somehow less disappointing. "Apparently its Kid's Camp today, we're watching _Space Jam_. Balthazar says I don't need to run a register to carry plates and the parents guilt tip like crazy, so I'm covering a shift for someone."

"Saving up to take Dean on a daaaaate?" Gabriel teased, poking Castiel in the side with his fan as he lunged across the punk to try to reach for the phone that had just beeped softly under his younger brother's leg. "Is that who you're talking to? Deeeeeeaaaaaan?"

"I'm talking to _Maimeo_ actually," Cas hissed, clutching his side where the tongue depressor had dug even as he used his other hand to bat at the older man with the remote until he sat back on his heels with a disappointed frown on his face. "She's threatening us with a visit now that we're both in the same place so I guess you better go hide all of your and Sam's sex toys before she shows up."

"Oh man," Gabriel replied with a groan, butting his head into Castiel's shoulder as he slumped in defeat. "That old _starrag_ hates my guts and she loves you. How is that even fair? You're the deviant and I'm so nice to her."

"Its probably because her and I bond over our hatred of dad," the punk replied with a shrug, pushing his brother off of him gently so that he could clamor to his feet; shoving his phone into his pocket as he went. "Also pot meet kettle or should I say Daddy meet deviant. Seriously, I thought I was the kinky one in this family but you and Sam…"

Castiel let out a low, impressed whistle, dodging away from his brother as the other man flung a throw pillow in his direction.

"Did you need a ride or what?" Meg grumbled from where she was propped up in the doorway of her bedroom, sleepily rubbing at her mascara streaked eyes and looking like she had just crawled out of bed in a sleep-rumpled Dead Milkmen t-shirt.

Castiel shook his head and pointed towards the front door just as his phone started playing The Mr. T Experience's _Who Needs Happiness(I'd Rather Have You)_ , his ring tone that he had set for Balthazar after figuring out that his new coworker had a masochistic crush on his roommate.

"Balthazar is picking me up today, but I'm sure if he knew you were awake he'd be okay with us being a few minutes late to work."

Meg crinkled her nose distastefully and rolled her eyes, "Ugh, no thanks. He's just so...eager. I barely had to even ask him to recommend you for that job, its seriously pathetic."

"Whatever Meg," the punk said, waving his hand over his shoulder at her as he made his way towards the door. "Maybe just be nicer to him in class, he takes you picking on his quiches or blintzes or whatever very seriously."

"He's just sensitive," Meg scoffed before disappearing back into her room, not bothering to shut the door behind her as she went.

"Or horror of horrors, he actually respects your opinion," Castiel called, grabbing his keys off of the hook by the door and letting himself out before the other woman could formulate a scathing reply.

Balthazar waved impatiently at him from his beloved, rust red Volvo that was idling in the short driveway that led up to Castiel's house and the punk managed to skip down the stairs of the yellow house without tripping even as he fished his phone back out of his pocket. There were already a couple of missed texts and Cas smiled softly at the device as he slid into the passenger seat of his coworker's car.

"Did he at least let you get some sleep last night?" Balthazar asked tersely, craning his neck so that he could see Meg who was watching their departure from her bedroom window; sighing deeply when the woman just sneered at them and disappeared from their view. "I really don't know if I can deal with another day of sleep-deprived you checking your phone every five minutes while you wait on a text from lover boy."

"Fun fact: the website for _Space Jam_ hasn't been updated since 1996," Castiel read off of his phone, grinning widely at his coworker before beginning to type a reply. "And no, I behaved and went to sleep at a decent time last night. Dean had to be up even earlier than I did so I cut him off at about eleven."

"Introducing you to unlimited messaging is a sin that I don't know if I will ever be able to forgive Meg for," Balthazar declared forlornly as they passed by the vacant lot of the salon that Gabriel worked at; Red Stella didn't open until eleven which explained why his older brother was awake but still in lounge-mode back at the house. "Seriously, it's been what? Two days since he gave you his number and every time I look up you're frittering away on your mobile. Ask him on a date, tell him you like him, spare us all. Please."

"Its not that simple," Castiel sighed, frowning as he shut his phone with a loud _snick!_ before tucking it away in his pocket again. The punk ran an agitated hand through his hair and ducked to rummage around on Balthazar's floorboard where he had left his apron when the other man had driven him home the night before. "I'm not good at the whole boyfriend thing and Dean doesn't want just casual sex. So we're friends which is good, its nice. Perfect even."

"Sounds perfect," Balthazar replied unconvinced, not missing the way that Castiel turned towards his window as they drove further down Lamar street towards Cheapos and BookPeople and their own place of work. "And no, we don't have time to stop for coffee if that's what you're about to ask."

The punk's mouth snapped shut as they passed Dean's workplace and he threw himself back against the seat with a groan, pressing the heels of his palms hard against his eyes as he did so. "Dude, I am the worst fucking friend ever! I can't stop thinking about how he looked in bed. The shoulders under those fucking cardigans are no joke and Dean just has this perfect fucking ass. Like, I knew I was a bad person, but I had no idea that I was _this_ bad of a person."

"You are a terrible person," Balthazar agreed with a sage nod of his head before one of his hands let go of the steering wheel for long enough to tug Castiel's hands away from his eyes. "You should invite Dean to go tubing with us on Sunday."

"Balth, man...I don't think I could handle seeing him in a swimsuit," Cas admitted honestly, dropping his free hand to fiddle with his lip ring as he spoke. "I already want to rub my face all over him when he's wearing clothes, I'll just embarrass myself if I have to hang out with him half naked."

"How about this? You keep me from throwing myself at Meg's beautiful, dainty feet and I'll stop you from molesting Mr. Wonderful. Deal?"

"Ugh! Fine," Castiel agreed reluctantly, mostly because he really wanted to hang out with Dean as much as humanly possible, but also because he knew that Balthazar needed all the help he could get to not make a fool out of himself in front of his roommate who for some reason only seemed to want people who had tattoos and piercings and were generally assholes.

Cas knew exactly what that said about him, but he decided that for the sake of his self-esteem he would ignore it.

* * *

In four days they had sent each other more than five hundred text messages, most of it meaningless banter about what they were doing at that exact moment or customers at their respective jobs who were annoying or weird. Dean had counted on having to wait for Cas to text him first before he finally caved and sent the punk a message that he would spend way too long crafting and obsessing over.

But the other man had surprised him by sending him a message a little over an hour after Dean had left the theater, asking if he wanted to hang out and then seemed genuinely disappointed that Dean couldn't because he had to be at BookPeople in twenty minutes to work a closing shift. The punk had walked down from the Drafthouse to get a cup of coffee, lingering around the journals that were near the cash register where Dean was working and pulling faces at him anytime he managed to catch Dean's eye.

Meg had shown up a short while later to drag the punk off, but the messages from the other man had started up again almost as soon as he had left and continued well into the night. Dean had woken up with his phone practically stuck to his face from drool and a couple of missed texts from Cas continuing on with their discussion of Jay Reatard that had lulled him to sleep in the first place. It was easy to pick up where they left off; not delving into anything too campfire-share-time, but dropping bits and pieces of themselves into the conversation like a trail of breadcrumbs that would help them find their way back from this weird place that their friendship was going.

Dean now knew that Cas had lived in twenty-eight different states at one point or another and Cas knew that Dean had once interned at the local radio station in Sioux Falls and very briefly DJed under the pseudonym Bruce Stark when the actual DJ had gotten violent food poisoning in the middle of his time slot. Details that weren't important, but made Dean feel like he was slowly peeling back the layers of the other man and maybe if he kept going he would reach something truly meaningful.

Okay, _maybe_ when it got really late they got a little loopy with their texts.

Maybe things sounded funnier or the tone of the messages got a little flirtier, but Dean was fucking tired of pretending that he didn't want Cas and it seemed that 2am was about the time of day he got bold. The first night they talked he had fallen asleep before he said anything too incriminating and the second Cas made him go to sleep since they both had to work in the morning, but the third night Dean actually worked up the nerve to call the punk while he was in the living room watching Battlestar Galactica on Netflix, coaxing the other man into joining him watch a few episodes while they critiqued the costumes and dialogue of the show.

That night neither of them seemed to want to hang up and eventually it was Sam storming out of his room and snatching the device out of Dean's hand that ended the call.

He didn't fall asleep until much later though, after thoroughly exhausting his memories of the one night that he had gotten where the punk had kissed him and marked him and claimed him as his own. The next morning he had woken up to a text from the punk asking him if he wanted to go tubing on Sunday and Dean was fairly proud of his willpower when he waited until Sam and Charlie were entirely awake before asking them whether or not they thought he needed a new swimsuit.

Saturday was spent working a double shift, his own as well as Becky's so that the other girl would cover his afternoon shift on Sunday so that he could go tubing. Cas popped in with Gabriel and Sam who were head to Whole Foods to pick up supplies for their foray onto the Colorado River and promised to get enough sunscreen for Dean too, hopping over the downstairs reference desk to place an unexpected kiss on Dean's cheek before the punk was being herded out of the store by his own brother.

And they had talked some more, almost non-stop in fact up until Dean and Dor and Charlie had pulled up in the Impala at East Side Tubing to meet the rest of their group. The punk had told him that Gabe was inviting a bunch of people from the salon he worked at and that maybe a couple of people from the Drafthouse would be there too, along with Meg. Dean was not looking forward to seeing the other man's roommate because she always crinkled her nose at him like he smelled bad anytime she saw him, but it would be worth it to spend the whole day lazily hanging out with Cas. Especially since he expected their conversation that they had been having about Futurama to continue without a pair of cellphones separating them.

Only the punk seemed to have other plans.

Because by the time they had rented their inner tubes and picked their way down the narrow path that led from the back of East Side Tubing to the river dock that the business had set up for its customers, Cas and Balthazar were already settled on the far side of a group of about ten inner tubes that had been lashed together with bungee cords. The two men had a cooler with a speaker embedded in one side settled in another tube between them and Meg was desperately tugging at Balthazar's bare ankle as the other man connected his cell phone to a cord that was running out of the lid of the plastic box.

"Sorry we're late," Dorothy explained, hefting both her's and Charlie's inner tubes in the direction of Sam who was frowning as he adjusted a few of the bungee cords. "Dean had a minor freakout about flip flops and we couldn't find Charlie's hat. It's been a hectic morning."

"Tell me about it," Gabriel agreed, waving a disgusted hand in Castiel's direction and Dean looked over to see that the punk was watching him despite the fact that Balthazar was desperately waving his cell phone in his face. "Fucking, diva pants over there took like a forty minute shower this morning which doesn't even make sense because he's going to have to wash the river stink off after this anyway and then Meg said we couldn't leave until she did her makeup. People say I'm the high maintenance one…"

"Gabe," Sam said warningly, taking Dean's inner tube from him with a fond, exasperated smile on his face. Dean had never seen his friend look like that over anyone before, maybe what Sam had with Gabe was the real deal. Huh. "You guys got your tubes for the whole day right? We brought stuff to do a cookout at Secret Beach so you can stay until you get tired of being out in the sun. There's beer, water, and Capri Sun in the cooler next to Kali and Theo; they work with Gabe at the salon. And Cas and Balthazar are keeping stuff you don't want to get wet in the speaker chest. Wallets, phones, t-shirts or whatever. They also have a whole bunch of extra sunscreen if you need it."

"The wife slathered me up before we left," Charlie explained, bouncing excitedly and causing the wide straw brim of the hat that Dor had insisted that the fair-skinned redhead wear to move sympathetically. "But she still needs some and so does Dean. I tried to tell her that a whole tube of sunscreen was a little bit overkill, but she started spouting off stuff about skin cancer and its just easier not to fight with her sometimes, you know?"

"Oh I know," Gabriel answered just as Sam opened his mouth to speak. The larger man rolled his eyes and went to carefully settle himself into one of the inner tubes, legs sprawling possessively across the tube next to him that Dean figured must belong to Gabriel. "You two go see Cassie for some sunscreen and then we'll be ready to go."

Dean followed Dorothy farther down the dock, accepting the coverup that Charlie had been wearing over her bikini when she threw it in their general direction before settling into an empty tube near Sam. The inner tubes were arranged in vague pairs, with the coolers attached to the group at both ends as well as one in the middle; Balthazar and Cas were heading up the group and Meg's tube was hooked directly below Balthazar's feet, a dark skinned girl with ebony hair in a red one-piece turned away from Castiel in her own inner tube seated directly beside her.

"Balth, seriously, I don't want to listen to your shitty Euro-pop all day," Meg complained, splashing a handful of river water in his direction as she spoke; it beaded harmlessly off of Balthazar's bare chest and the other man gave her a dry look when he took off his aviators to shake off the water that had landed there as well. "Jesus, I fucking hate you."

Dean stuck close to Dor because he had expected Cas to be happy to see him, all flirty smiles and inside jokes about the stuff that they had been talking about, but the other man was practically ignoring him. Yea, the punk was looking at him for sure, some might say staring, but Cas was otherwise seemingly engaged in his conversation with Balthazar about who even knew what.

"Sunscreen?" Dor questioned the two men, earning a put upon sigh from Balthazar until the other man turned to face them; pausing with his hand stuck halfway into the speaker cooler next to him as his mouth dropped open and his sunglasses slid down his nose. "What? Is there something on my face?"

"Of course not darling," Balthazar said sputtering back to life before he rummaged out a bottle of sunscreen, his inner tube tipping precariously as he reached up to where Dor was standing on the dock to hand it to her. "Just marveling at your gorgeousness."

"Well golly thanks," Dor replied genuinely, fluttering her eyelashes in an over the top way as she gestured dismissively at her high-waisted navy and white striped bikini. "Trust me its all in the tailoring."

Meg scoffed as Dor squirted a handful of sunscreen into her hand before handing the tube off to Dean and going back down the dock to sit down on the edge so that Charlie could apply sunscreen to her legs without having to get out of her inner tube.

"Cool it, Meg," Castiel said sternly, kicking his roommate's inner tube hard before he turned to Balthazar. "She's taken dude, rocket ship bikini."

The other man let out a sigh, dropping his head back onto the rubber behind him despondently. "They're all either adorable lesbians or they hate me. There is no god."

"Hey Cas," Dean said softly, setting the sunscreen down on the dock at his feet as he bent over at his waist to rub it into his legs; taking the opportunity to steal a glance at the other man who was decked out in grey houndstooth patterned board shorts and a faded black tank top that had the PABST logo on it in cracked screen-print. "How's it going?"

God, he sounded so fucking lame.

"Good," The punk replied shortly, squinting at him in the bright sunlight. "You?"

Dean couldn't help but notice how cute the other man looked with his nose all crinkled up and wished that Cas had thought to save a spot in an inner tube near him so they could talk to each other. Or maybe the punk only talked to Dean as a last resort, now that there were other, cooler people around he had no reason to slum it with a nerd.

"It's great," Dean answered tightly as he straightened back up, reaching behind his back to pull the one burnt orange University of Texas t-shirt that he had begrudgingly allowed into his wardrobe over his head; handing it to Balthazar along with the sunscreen to put back into the speaker chest. "Guess I'll get Charlie to help me with my back, thanks Balthazar."

"No worries," The other man replied congenially.

He cast one last look at Cas who was busy peering into the speaker chest with a focused expression on his face before heading back down the dock towards the last empty inner tube, spreading sunscreen thickly across his chest and shoulders as he went because the last thing he needed was more fucking freckles. There was a loud splash behind him and Dean looked over his shoulder to see Cas flailing around in his inner tube, Meg squealing and trying to cover her hair at Balthazar's feet and it was all he could do to breathe through the hurt that suddenly blossomed in his chest

Maybe Cas had just been messing with his this whole time, seeing how far in love with him Dean could fall before it stopped being funny and just became pathetic. The punk probably was getting Meg and Balthazar to help him make up texts to send him, that's why there had been so many; they were taking shifts making fun of him. He wondered who's idea it had been to invite him along to this, not that it really mattered because he was leaving as soon as he could get off this god-forsaken river.

About three-quarters of the way down the river, Sam announced that he and Gabriel were going to stop at Secret Beach to start barbecuing and the two men enlisted Dean to help them haul their little floating community towards the shore so that they could free the coolers.

"By the time you guys get back around to here everything should be ready," Gabe explained, pulling a large bag of vegetables out of one of the coolers and handing it to Meg who had tipped daintily out of her own inner tube once they had reached knee-deep water; Balthazar following along behind her eagerly with a much larger splash. "Or maybe I should just leave it to the culinary students among us and go back to working on my tan then."

"No," Balthazar said quickly, glancing nervously at Cas before he straightened and flicked a dismissive hand in Meg's direction. "With her as a sous, I'll need all the help I can get."

"If anyone's the sous here its you!" Meg pronounced, shouldering the other man out of the way as Sam ambled back over to help Dean push their inner tubes towards the center of the river where the current would pull them back into their lazy float. "Move the fuck out of my way."

"You should go sit next to Cas," Charlie urged, poking at Dean's bicep as he made to heft himself back into his inner tube next to her. "He looks lonely and you could use more sunscreen anyway, you're looking kinda lobster-y."

"I'll be fine," Dean grumbled, glancing at the punk who had produced a pair of neon colored wayfarers from somewhere and settled them on his face before slumping back down into his own inner tube at the head of the group. "I'm going home once we get to the shuttle anyway, are you two good to find a ride home with Sam or something?"

"Why don't you want to stay?" Dor asked sleepily, flicking the brim of Charlie's hat and earning a handful of water whipped at her face in return. "You were super excited about hanging out with Cas and now you won't go near him. Are you two having a lover's quarrel?"

"You have to be lover's to have a-," Dean started before waving a hand through the air to cut himself off because he did not need to think about the fact that he and the punk could technically fit into the category of lovers. He was mad at Cas, he wanted to stay mad at Cas. "No, y'know. It's nothing, I'm just not as into this whole thing as I thought I would be."

"Okay, honeybear," Charlie muttered, squeaking around in her inner tube until she could lean her head onto Dor's; her hand reaching up to tangle into the other woman's slightly damp bun that had been put up when her shoulder length brown hair had trailed into the water at the beginning of their float. "Just do me a favor and take out the trash when you get home, in the rush this morning I forgot to do it."

Dean nodded and rubbed a hand over his too hot neck as he settled back against his tube, hoping that maybe the current would pick up or something so that they would reach the shuttle dock that would take them back to the start of the float before he got too horrendously sunburned.

Twenty minutes later he was trying unsuccessfully to shove himself onto the shuttle bus that was already packed with most of his group as well as their inner tubes. He resolutely ignored the way that Cas was watching him from where the punk was leaning in the shade of one of the trees at the edge of the gravel parking lot, having already given up trying to get on the overcrowded shuttle himself in favor of waiting for the next one to arrive. The rational part of Dean knew that was probably the best way to deal with this, but the part that had been programmed since junior high to avoid confrontation like the plague wondered how much it would cost to just take a taxi back to his car.

"Its not happening, sugar," the older woman driving the bus drawled, giving Dean a disapproving look when he punched the inner tube that was keeping him from getting onto the bus. "The next shuttle'll be here in five, ten minutes tops. Promise."

"Fine," Dean muttered, getting one last retaliatory kick at the inner tube in before the shuttle's doors close with a soft whoosh.

For a moment he considered standing in the middle of the parking lot until the next shuttle arrived, but the sun was blistering down on his sensitive shoulders and there wasn't even a breeze to combat the heat so Dean caved after about thirty seconds and stomped over to the speaker cooler that was sitting at Cas's feet to retrieve his t-shirt that he probably should've been wearing this whole time. He might have slammed the lid to the cooler harder than was strictly necessary, but the whole situation was more than a little frustrating.

"Sorry," the punk muttered softly, pushing his sunglasses up into his hair as he watched Dean wince when the material of his t-shirt scratched roughly over his shoulder. "Sunburns suck."

"Yea, well, I didn't exactly get as much sunscreen on my back as I should have," Dean replied bitterly, snatching his glasses off of his face so that he could finally clean the water droplets that had dried on the lenses off.

"I thought you were going to ask Charlie to help you?" Cas asked concernedly, reaching out to pull aside the neckline of Dean's shirt, exposing the skin of his collarbone that was already an angry red color. "Fuck, Dean. I didn't know you had such sensitive skin, how are you so fucking tan?"

"Sam calls it controlled exposure," Dean muttered, jerking away from the punk's touch because he wanted those hands to put aloe on his sunburn and take care of him and hold him. The sincere look of concern on the other man's face was making it harder and harder to believe that Cas had been playing him all this time. "We don't ever sit out for this long, there are breaks for Star Trek and popsicles."

The punk's mouth twitched into a smile and Dean couldn't help but lean into the the other man's bubble of space so that he could soak up as much of it as he could while he could.

"I would've helped you put your sunscreen on y'know," Cas declared simply, settling down onto the cooler near Dean's hip and stretching his leg out in front of him with a put upon sigh. "I might have gotten distracted by your back for ten or forever minutes, but you wouldn't be sunburned."

"So why didn't you offer?" Dean asked, watching the way the residual water beaded down the maze of lighter brown hair that covered the punk's legs; he wanted to lick it off and he wasn't exactly sure what that said about him.

"Because according to Balthazar," Castiel began, raking his gaze over Dean's body in a way that couldn't possibly be mistaken for anything other than interest. "People don't usually spend as much time thinking about kissing their friends as I apparently do."

"Y-you think about kissing me?" Dean asked brokenly, his heart beat ratcheting up to dangerous levels when the other man just shrugged and blew out a heavy sigh; raking a hand through his messy, uneven hair and making it stick up into sweat-stiffened spikes.

"I didn't want you to feel weird about it or anything," the punk said after a heavy silence which Dean spent trying to will his hands to move so they could grab the other man's face and smash their lips together. "Don't worry about it dude, it'll go away, sooner or later."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I don't want to lose you," Cas admitted lowly, plucking casually at the front of his tank top for a moment before he cleared his throat and shook his head. "I know I'm good at the friend thing, everything else….well, I can't promise that I won't fuck that part up. So I'll deal with wanting to kiss you every time you spout nerdy shit I don't understand because I can't remember the last time being around someone made me as happy as I am right now."

"Yea 'cause you sound super happy, Cas," Dean said sarcastically, putting his hand on the punk's bare shoulder when the other man just smirked half-heartedly in reply.

He floundered for something else to say that might reassure the other man when Cas looked up at him from under his eyelashes because gosh, he had just been wanting to kiss Cas so fucking bad and now...well, he practically had permission.

"What are you doing?" the punk asked quickly, jerking back when Dean moved to close the distance between their faces; his hand sliding up to rest against the side of Cas's neck where he could feel the other man's frantic pulse.

"I won't make it weird," Dean explained, hoping that his voice didn't come out as pleading as it felt like it did. "I promise, nothing else has to change. We can still be friends, I just...I want to kiss you, Cas."

The punk's eyes widened, nodding as he moved his face back towards Dean until they were sharing each other's breath; Cas's hand fisted into the thigh of Dean's teal swim trunks like he was afraid Dean would change his mind. "Friends who kiss, I can do that. I'm totally down with that."

"Me too," Dean agreed quickly, closing the distance between them before the other man could say something adorable and sarcastic that would make it even harder for him to stop at just kissing.

Unlike the few other times they had done this, Dean felt like he was dominating the kiss; the punk's lips parting slightly as he gasped, giving Dean the opportunity to suck Cas's bottom lip into his mouth so he could tongue over the other man's lip ring like he had been imagining since the first time he saw Cas loitering outside Cheapos. It was hesitant and unhurried and lacking the needy, panicked heat that had characterized their love-making when Dean had been so certain that he would get one and only one chance to be wanted by someone like Cas.

It was the scrape of stubble that came from neither of them shaving since it was their day off. It was the taste of Capri Sun and river water and sweat. It was the smell of cloves and the sound of soft sighs as they angled their heads in tandem in order to fit together better; neither of them pushing for more than what they already were finding in each other.

Okay, maybe Dean's hand slid into Cas's hair because seriously, that fucking hair. And maybe the punk's hand spasmed on Dean's thigh for just a second or two before pulling him closer until his knees knocked sharply into the cooler that Cas was sitting on. Maybe Dean's sunburn was fucking killing him and just maybe Cas's flip-flop shod feet were getting bitten by ants. Maybe it wasn't a perfect, romance novel, MTV award winning kiss.

But for right now it was enough and Dean could work with enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...so...I'm sorry its taking me so long to get stuff posted, I've got the worst attention span lately. Maybe I should cut back on my coffee intake...not likely. Anyway! I had this chapter completely plotted out in my head two weeks ago, it just took me this long to get it down on pixels.
> 
> Random addendums: Astonishing X-Men #51 featured the marriage of openly gay superhero Northstar to his longtime (non-superhero) partner.
> 
> I take a lot of care to make Cas varied in each of my fics because he's an angel and doesn't technically have a race, ethnicity, sex, gender, etc because he is just a wavelength of celestial intent. Yes, I'm guilty of always keeping him white and male, but damnit Misha Collins is easy on the eyes. In this fic he and by extension Gabriel are the embodiment of the American melting pot, Scots-Gaelic on their mother's side which I will go more into detail in later in the story. So with that in mind: Maimeo=grandmother and starrag=crow. I'm translating from online so forgive me for butchering anything there.
> 
> Finally! Thank you to everyone who is reading, commenting, what have you-ing this fic. It's kind of got a lot of myself wrapped up in it and it means a lot that people like it. I will me updating the playlist for this fic on my [tumblr](http://itspronounceddeathsteel.tumblr.com/) later this week so if you're interested in that come visit me! Let's talk punk rock, sci-fi, and destiel!


	11. timey-wimey, wibbly-wobbly, feelings-weelings crap or time and relative dimension in our fucked up relationships

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I like the way you touch me."  
> "I like to touch you... That works out for us, huh?” -Jeffrey Brown, _AEIOU: Any Easy Intimacy_

Dean decided to not make a big deal about it.

So they were friends who kissed, he could be all about that. Especially since as soon as the shuttle bus showed up again, Cas crowded him up against the window of the seat that they took and proceeded to kiss him breathless. The punk effortlessly taking back the temporary control that he had given Dean and using it to his full advantage to kiss him tenderly enough that the co-eds who followed them onto the shuttle cooed and made the biggest of heart eyes at them when they broke apart.

Okay, Dean's heart might have melted just a bit when Cas smiled at him all soft when he opened his eyes and sighed after that amazing kiss, but he had promised that things wouldn't get weird and the last thing he wanted was to scare the punk away with his _feelings_ just when he was finally starting to get somewhere with the other man. Granted it wasn't where he wanted to be, but Dean was patient. And it didn't hurt that Cas kissed like a fucking pro either.

But it seemed like the kissing wasn't going to be an all the time thing, which was the part that was confusing him.

Once they ditched their tubes at East Side Tubing and made a quick stop at a nearby Walgreens for aloe vera and calamine lotion, they decided to just drive across the river to meet everyone else who had already made it back to Secret Beach and were starting to worry. The rest of the evening, Cas didn't touch him, not even in that comfortable, casual way that Dean had gotten used to; at least not after a last quick peck on lips as they made their way down the meandering hiking trail that lead to the beach and all of their friends.

The punk did stick close to him though, smirking over his beer when Dean and Charlie started geeking out with Gabe's coworker, Theo, about the LARPing group that they all apparently were members of; small world. Dean blushed hot when he remembered what Cas had said about wanting to kiss him when he was being nerdy and licked his lips unconsciously, causing the punk to abruptly straighten up and excuse himself from the conversation to go over to where Sam and Gabriel were talking to Kali instead.

Dean was pretty sure he had heard that trio discussing paddles and handcuffs and tried very hard to keep his mind from straying towards thoughts of Cas tying him to a bed and having his wicked way with him. Kissing was a long way off from sex after all and Dean figured that for his own sake he probably shouldn't push for too much too soon, he was pretty sure his brain was already about to implode as it was. Up until now Dean's sex life had been strictly vanilla, but if Cas wanted to...anyway.

When their group headed back towards their respective cars to part ways, Cas just smiled and gave him a tight hug before reluctantly climbing into the passenger seat of Gabriel's car; switching places with Sam who clambered into the Impala with the rest of their regular household. Sure Dean got a text from the punk right before he drifted off to sleep after indulging in an extremely vivid fantasy about all the different ways that Cas could get him off with just his mouth. It pretty much said he was happy that they had gotten to hang out that day, but didn't mention their kis- their new arrangement at all.

If that's what it was...maybe it was just a one time thing and Dean shouldn't be reading as much into it was he was. Hell, he and Sam had even kissed before at the end of their one disastrous date and it hadn't left his lips tingling for hours afterward or made his heart race when his phone beeped again just as he was drifting off to sleep.

Of course it was another message from Cas, lately they all had been, but this was the first one that the punk had bothered to sign in any way shape or form: the little trio of _x_ s was enough to make his goofy smile stay with him long after he was asleep.

* * *

"You cheeky bastard," Balthazar muttered with an awestruck shake of his head when Castiel just shrugged and ducked into a crouch to reach for the tray of half empty salt and pepper shakers that they were supposed to be filling as part of their prep for the morning shift. "I didn't even say that, you just needed an excuse to lock lips with your boytoy. I feel so...used."

"I'm not even going to apologize," Cas replied, grinning to himself as an uncharacteristically deep blush spread over his cheeks and down his neck. "It was a great kiss, a great couple of kisses actually."

"You shamelessly took my name in vain to get yourself some action," Balthazar accused, squinting at the other man who only smiled to himself and started unscrewing the caps off of the shakers. "And the worst part is I'm only brassed because I didn't think of doing it first. All Meg does is talk about you, I should've just faked a common interest."

"Dude, I made out with her once," Cas explained, grimacing at the memory of he and his roommate's mutually drunken make out session back when he had visited his brother almost a year before. "She needs to let it go."

During SXSW Meg had made it pretty clear that she would be interested in a repeat performance, maybe with less clothes, but Cas couldn't bear the thought of doing anything sexual with someone who he had only kissed in the first place because he was drunk and sad and Meg's dark hair had reminded him of Daphne's. Ritchie had offered to act as a buffer between the two of them and like most of his life during the past two years, one thing had led to another and Cas had left behind almost as many problems as he was running from when he left Austin in March to go stay with some friends who had a punk house in Cleveland.

He'd only come back because Gabe had made him feel bad about his roommate ducking out of their lease early since Meg had been giving him hell ever since Cas had left. The punk didn't plan on staying long, but then again he hadn't really planned on the cute, quiet guy from the bookstore being someone who could possibly become a regular fixture in his life. Dean didn't want any fixtures from Cas though, which bothered him more than much else had in a long time.

The only thing he could compare it to was when he had first met Daphne; sweet, kind, shy, smart Daphne who was really too good for his gutter punk ass, but who still thought he was funny and interesting. Like her, Dean made him want to be a better person or at least be good enough that someone that great would deign to have a loser like him in their life.

"Well, maybe I should pick up snogging tips from you because you made quite the impression," Balthazar said jokingly, the bitterness in his voice almost completely buried by the lighthearted tone of his words, but Castiel heard it and patted his friend on the back in condolence.

"Sorry, man. You're not my type."

"Bollocks," the other man cursed softly, earning a snort from Cas before their conversation drifted to Marvel movies and how confused by the secret scene at the end of _X Men: Days of Future Past_ the punk was.

He'd never been a big fan of comic books.

* * *

Sam was quickly finding out that the whole 'relationship' thing was a lot more time consuming than he was used to. Mostly because he had more experience with the sex part of relationships than the actual relationship part, but Gabe definitely made the sexy parts of their time together interesting enough that the non-sexy times didn't seem as tedious as they had when he had tried to do the boyfriend thing before.

Maybe it was just Gabriel or maybe it was the sex; it seemed like too much work to try to separate the two from each other.

Before he had met the older man, there had always been something missing it his sex life. It was too mechanical and robotic and...stiff (pun intended). The rigid expectations of the guys that he dated meant that the ever eager to please Sam ended up be the uber-dominant, Alpha-male that everyone expected him to be when really he just wanted someone else to take that control away from him. Maybe taunt him with it a bit. Maybe praise him and pet him and call him baby while they did so.

Sam had a lot of complicated feelings about sex that most people didn't want to hear about when there were endorphins and cocks and friction involved. The impatience of his partners had so often won out over his own desires that Sam had all but given up finding someone who would take the time to give a shit about him for once. Dean got it because he was in a similar situation, but two reluctant tops who wanted to be bottoms did not a relationship make.

He didn't take Gabriel's phone that day at Alamo Drafthouse intending to end up crouched on the floorboard of the other man's car with a cramp in his leg and a cock in his mouth. But that's what happened. He and Gabe had fought and bickered and Sam found himself wanting to do something that would make the other man forgive him, something that would make this short, loud, stranger with a mustache smile instead of curse at him.

It was almost an accident when Sam sarcastically called Gabe 'daddy' that day in the lobby of the movie theater when they had been fighting; a hot flush of embarrassment flooding through him when Sam had realized that he had just yelled that in front of the group of employees and patrons that had been watching them argue. But the only reaction that Gabriel had expressed from the name was a sharp intake of breath and a rapid darkening of his eyes. Which had worked for Sam so fucking hard it was ridiculous.

Sam texted Dean when Gabriel was driving them back to his place, his mouth still tasting like the other man's come and his cock so hard that he thought he would die from his brain not getting enough oxygen. It was just supposed to be sex and nothing more like it always had been, but then...y'know, _feelings._

Sam's feelings, not Gabe's.

The older man had a whole slew of reasons for not wanting to date Sam, reasons that he listed anytime the younger man brought it up during one of their post-coital cuddling sessions when Sam's ass was still tinged red with handprints and stinging pleasantly. The biggest being age, which Sam repeatedly argued was just a number and if anything worked in their favor considering their mutually shared kinks. Others included Sam's (nonexistent) history with relationships, what their parents would think, the fact that they hardly knew anything about each other, and their cycle of arguing, fucking, and then arguing again in a way that probably wasn't healthy.

Gabriel's younger brother turning up and the resulting drama that seemed to follow Castiel wherever he went chased his erstwhile bed partner out of his home and had given Sam exactly the opportunity he needed to prove that he liked Gabe for more than just what he was packing in his jeans. Once they were forced to interact in ways that didn't involve their daddy issues or a mutual fondness for ageplay, it turned out that all of Gabriel's reasons for why they shouldn't be together were just excuses that the older man was just using so that he wouldn't get burned again.

The argument that led to them becoming Facebook official (which Gabe thought was important, but Sam had just rolled his eyes at) went something like this:

Gabriel: "You're young and gorgeous and you shouldn't have to settle down for the first person who realized you needed to be spanked!"

Sam: "Maybe it's something I want to do instead of something I have to do."

G: "You say that now, but you'll get bored, Sam. You have no idea what being in an adult relationship is like, it's not all fucking and cuddling. There are real life things you would have to deal with if we were together."

S: "Okay."

G: "That's all you have to say? Okay? Sam, you can't treat this like a big game. I can't deal with being with someone like that again."

S: "I'm deadly serious, Gabe. I want to give us a real shot."

G:" Well...fuck, alright then. Now get over here and kiss me or something."

It was pretty anti-climatic honestly, but Sam was happy. He didn't know how he was going to be able to fit in spending time with Gabriel once school started back in the fall, because he'd already signed up for his now usual 18-hours of coursework and in the past it had left little time for anything else but hookups. Gabriel was so much more than a hookup though and Sam was hopeful that the other man would help him keep his head when finals came around and he started freaking out like he always did.

Until then though, he was going to snatch up every opportunity he could think of to spend time with the other man which is what led him to leaning over the bar top at Mohawk in order give Gabriel a quick kiss when the older man stopped by his place of work to see him once the salon had closed. It was the middle of the week after they had all gone tubing and Sam had passed meeting the older man's friends with flying colors, so now it was his turn to subject his boyfriend to the scrutiny of his own co-workers. Sam believed that Ruby and Jess would be a lot tougher critics than Kali and Theo had turned out to be.

He hoped that Gabriel would punish him gloriously for making the whole ordeal harder than necessary.

"Hey, baby boy," Gabriel said smirking smugly when the larger man ducked his head and blushed. He knew exactly what it did to Sam when he called him that in public. "Did you miss me?"

"Ehhh," Sam replied, making a so-so face that broke quickly into a smile when the older man squawked in disbelief and batted at his arm that was resting on top of the bar. "But seriously, I'm glad you're here."

"Aww, bestill my heart," Gabe crowed, fluttering his fingers over his face in a mimicry of the shyness that the older man would never have. "Any particular reason why you're so happy to see me?"

"Yea, I've got a surprise for you," Sam answered, stepping around the bar as he spoke. "Stay right here while I go get it."

"I am a statue," the other man said seriously, smoothing his fingers over his mustache before over-exaggeratedly freezing in place.

Sam smiled and headed towards the outside bar, stopping by the brunette and blonde who were unabashedly staring at Gabriel with narrowed eyes and mischievous smirks on their faces.

"That him?" the blonde asked, gesturing towards Gabe with a jut of her chin.

"Yep," Sam said congenially. "Feel free to not go easy on him. I've got to go see Chris about some wristbands for my roommates for next week so I'll be back when I'm back."

"This is gonna be fun," the brunette purred, looping her arm through the other woman's so they could stalk together towards Gabe who was still sitting unsuspectingly with his back towards them at the bar.

Ruby and Jess sometimes made Sam wish that he liked women, because they were terrifying enough together that he knew they would have no trouble striping his ass just as thoroughly as Gabriel could.

* * *

Dean hadn't told Sam that the extra wristband for Chaos in Tejas that he had asked his roommate to get was for Cas, but he was pretty sure the other man knew. Its not like Dean had been mooning around the house about anyone else lately and the small punk music festival wasn't really something he'd ever had any interest in going to before. Dor and Charlie were going too, so it's not like it was a date or anything, but Dean was still nervous about giving the other man the wristband.

What if Cas laughed at him and told him that he may have kissed him, but it didn't mean they had to hang out or anything? What if he took the wristband (because duh, it _was_ a free ticket into over 80 shows that were to be played over the course of four days) and then ditched him to hang out with someone who liked the kind of loud, blaring, headache inducing music that was on some of the 7"s that the punk had picked out for him?

He had liked a scant handful of the albums that the other man had picked out for him during their last foray into Cheapos, but they hadn't had a chance to talk about it yet. Dean had noticed that a few of those same bands were playing at Chaos in Tejas when he had walked out of his bedroom to find Charlie and Dor discussing the line-up one morning when he was leaving for work. It had been the lingering memory of stubble scratching against his lips and the smell of cloves clinging to his skin that drove him to impulsively ask Sam to grab him an extra wristband.

Since they already had plans to hang out with each other after Cas got off of work on Thursday, Dean decided to try not to worry about it until then; choosing to lose himself in the new issues of _Harley Quinn_ and _Avengers Undercover_ as well as re-reading his trade paperbacks of _Buffy Season Eight_ in order to help the time pass until the punk texted him to let him know that he was done with work.

The plan had been to pick Cas up from Alamo Drafthouse once he was off and then they would grab something to eat (Dean had been craving a milkshake from Hut's Hamburgers all day) before coming back to his house so that they could watch Doctor Who. The punk had never seen any of it (classic or otherwise) and Dean was eager to remedy that particular cosmic malfunction.

He wasn't expecting a knock on the front door while he was still in the shower, dick hard in his soap-slick grip in an effort to avoid an awkward boner from being around Cas when he didn't know if kissing was something they were doing now. So it was essentially the understatement of the year to say that he was not exactly thrilled to be cracking open his front door in just a pair of boxer clinging to his hastily dried skin and an erection that had only just been diverted by thinking about sad puppies.

No amount of sad baby animals in the world could have prepared him for seeing Castiel in all of his sweaty, glistening glory standing on his porch with a cigarette in his mouth and a hand cupped to shield his lighter from the barely there breeze blowing outside. There was a rusted gold fixed speed bicycle propped up at the bottom of the porch steps and the punk had a battered patch-covered backpack resting at his feet.

Dean had to remind himself to breathe when the other man's eyes skimmed up and down his body as Cas took the first drag on his cigarette.

"Interrupting something?" the punk asked, blowing out smoke along with his question and causing Dean to remember that oh, yea. Underwear, mostly naked, raging libido going unchecked right the fuck now.

"No!" Dean lied, his voice coming out several octaves higher than normal, earning a smirk from the other man who just continued to calmly smoke his cigarette and gaze at Dean in a way that seemed appreciative.

At least he hoped it was appreciative as he cleared his throat and leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms over his chest in an effort to appear unfazed by the fact that he had been interrupted mid-fantasy by the very object of said fantasy.

"So um...what happened to me picking you up from work?" Dean asked, ignoring the beads of water that were running down his neck from his still wet hair even though Cas's blue eyes were tracking them with an almost laser-like focus.

"I wanted to surprise you," Castiel stated simply, shrugging his shoulders before his brow furrowed and he looked inquisitively past Dean into the house. "Seriously though, is this this a bad time? Because I could go if you're with someone else right now."

"What? No," Dean objected quickly, blushing even hotter in embarrassment when he realized that how debauched he must look if the punk was thinking he had someone at his house that he was hanging out in his underwear with. "Come in, sorry. Of course there's not anyone else, Cas."

"Great," the punk replied, an easy grin breaking across his face as he stooped to pick up his bag, smoothly stubbing out his cigarette in the potted plant next to the door as he went before straightening back up. "In that case, hello handsome."

And then Cas leaned in and kissed him.

It was just a simple peck on the lips before the punk was shouldering past him into the house, but Dean had felt the graze of teeth on his bottom lip and holy fuck, okay. They were going to continue the kissing thing, he was really really okay with that.

"...and the little bastard's parents left me like a twenty dollar tip. So can I borrow one?" Cas was saying when Dean caught up to where the punk was rummaging around in his backpack that he had sat on the coffee table in the living room.

"Er...yea?" Dean said, having no idea what the other man was talking about, but willing to give Cas anything he asked for. He hooked a thumb in the direction of the bathroom where he had left his clothes, "I'm gonna go get dressed, take whatever you need. I'll be just a second."

"You're a peach," the other man said with a smile, gesturing towards the television with one hand. "Are we staying out here or…"

"My bedroom," Dean answered over his shoulder, eager to shut himself away from the punk for a few seconds so that he could have a stern conversation with certain parts of his anatomy that were staging a revolt. "I have everything downloaded on my computer. You remember which one it is, right?"

"Couldn't forget if I tried," The punk called back to him and Dean managed to make it into the bathroom before he let out the whimper of want that was threatening to tear its way out of his throat.

He was going to have Cas in his bed again, be able to cuddle up against him and maybe kiss him a little bit. His bed was going to smell like the earthy, spice-infused musk of the other man and Dean was going to jerk off so much with his face pressed into whatever pillow the punk happened to lay on that he would probably be too embarrassed to look Castiel in the face later. But he couldn't think about that right now or he would be hard and distracted and unable to function for the rest of the evening.

He needed to focus on one thing at a time; getting dressed, figuring out dinner, Doctor Who. All variables that he could control.

So he pulled on his favorite pair of comfortable brown corduroys, the ones that had lost one of the buttons on the button fly and were softened by wear and being washed over and over. They had been sacrificed to the scissors this summer since they weren't really something he could wear to school anymore and now as shorts that were cuffed up so the ragged hem didn't show, but they fit Dean like a second skin.

He threw on the plain green v-neck that he had picked out specifically because Dor and Charlie always told him it matched his eyes and took an indulgent moment to fluff up his hair in the mirror before he took a deep breath and headed out of the bathroom towards his bedroom that was just down the hall from the living room.

Dean saw Castiel's battered backpack and his scuffed Converse discarded at the foot of his bed before he saw the punk, but even then it was like his brain went offline for a couple of long seconds once he finally registered that Cas was standing at his record player holding one of the 7"s that he had been mostly recently listening to in his hands. His momentary paralysis was partially due to the fact that the sight of the punk looking so at home in his bedroom made his heart skip a beat or twelve, but it was mostly due to Cas being shirtless.

Which he wasn't complaining about because it afforded him a perfect view of the glorious span of skin that was the other man's muscular, ink covered shoulders all the way down to where the tips of his tattooed wings disappeared below the top of his low slung jeans. But it was a little too much for him to take right now, especially since he had been imagining coming all over Cas's tattoos less than fifteen minutes ago.

Who was he kidding? The sight of the other man shirtless was probably too much for anyone to take ever. Or at least that's what he was going to claim if anyone asked him why he sagged against the doorway of his bedroom when confronted with the picture that the other man made before him.

"Oh hey," Cas said, glancing up with a smirk on his face as he waved the record in the air so that Dean could see it. "Did you listen to this one yet?"

Dean straightened up quickly and went to stand next to Castiel, studying the cover of the record that was a black and white photo of a guy in a beanie drinking a beer; the band was called Swearin'. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his shorts so that he wouldn't be tempted to run them across the jut of Cas's collarbones or trace the smattering of hair that ran between his pecs and down his abdomen to his waistband.

"Yea, I've listened to all of the ones you got for me," Dean answered softly, lolling into Cas's space enough that their shoulders brushed. "I liked that one and um...Big Soda? I liked them, I don't really remember the names of the rest, there were a lot."

"That's cool," Castiel replied, carefully setting the album down on top of the rest of the precariously balanced stack that Dean needed to re-shelve. "I like their song 'Just', it's not on this album, but I'll play it for you sometime once my guitar gets here. Swearin' is actually playing next week at Beerland I think, if you want to go see them."

"Sam got us wristbands for Chaos in Texas," Dean offered shyly, crossing his fingers in his pocket as he spoke. "And um...he got me an extra one. If you want we can go together...to see them that is. And uh...Dor's friends' band is playing at Emo's too. She wanted me to invite you to that."

"Dude," the punk drawled, his eyebrows raising in shock instead of how Dean was used to seeing just one of them arched when Cas was teasing him. "Dean, no."

Okay, Dean officially felt like the dumbest person on the face of the planet. He should've known better than to try to ask the other man to spend more time with him, they were already bordering on spending too much time together for people who were just supposed to be friends and nothing more. Cas was probably freaking the fuck out.

"I can't just let you give me a ticket," Castiel continued, delving a hand into the pocket of his jeans so that he could pull out his worn, leather wallet. "It's too much, Dean. Let me give you some money for it or something."

"No," Dean answered quickly, putting his hand over the punk's as he started to pull out a crumpled looking stack of singles and fives. "You don't have to do that, Cas. I got it for free anyway, I just um...I thought you would like to go."

_With me._ He didn't add that part though because then the whole gesture would seem too much like a date even if that was what Dean had privately been thinking of it as since the idea to get wristbands for he and Cas had come to him. If Castiel chose to use his wristband to go to shows with Dean well then that would be fantastic.

"Christ you're awesome," the punk breathed, reaching out and looping a hand around the back of Dean's neck to pull him into another kiss.

This one was slower and more purposeful than the one Cas had given him at the door and Dean tried his level best to savor it even though he hadn't been wholly prepared for it. It was still careful though, like Cas thought he was going to break him if he slipped Dean some tongue or something, but it was nice. So fucking nice and sweet that Dean had to pull away from it before he started crying.

No one had ever kissed him like they really cared about _him_ before. Kissed him like they had forever to memorize the contours of his lips or to discover the exact angle they had to tilt their head in order to set all of his nerve endings on fire. But he was pretty sure that's what Cas was trying to do right now, even if he didn't mean to.

"So um...Doctor Who?" Dean asked, ducking his head as he spoke so that Cas wouldn't see him blushing even though it would be pretty hard to miss since the punk was still holding onto the nape of Dean's neck.

"Yea, sounds good," Castiel replied lowly, letting out a shaky exhale before finally letting go of Dean's neck and taking a few steps over to the bed; picking up a t-shirt that Dean hadn't noticed sitting there. "I'm gonna go try to wash the ranch dressing smell off real quick, be right back."

Oh, so that's what he had been asking to borrow, the whole shirtless thing made a lot more sense now.

Dean took the time he had alone to double check his room for anything embarrassing; dirty socks trapped in his comforter, bookmarks for porn pulled up on his computer, or any sex toys that Charlie or Sam might have shoved into a nook or cranny somewhere in an effort to embarrass him. He also pulled up the episode of Doctor Who that he wanted to start Cas on, turning the video on full screen and grabbing his wireless mouse so that he could control the computer from the comfort of his bed.

Which is where he tried to get cozy in the most attractive way possible before Cas came back from cleaning up. But the pillows were suddenly too lumpy or they wouldn't lay right and his legs were too cold, but then the blanket made him too hot which is why when the punk returned Dean was tangled up in his sheets and fighting with one of his pillows.

"Aww, honey," Castiel said putting his hand on his hip when he stopped in the doorway, wearing one of Dean's plain v-necks that hung loosely on his smaller frame. "You saved me my side of the bed."

"Yea, that's what I was doing," Dean mumbled, kicking his comforter completely off the bed in disgust before sitting up and straightening out his own shirt that had gotten hiked up during his tussle with his bed linens.

"Could you be any more wonderful?" Castiel asked as he slowly crawled his way up the bed, making it much more tortuously seductive than it needed to be if you asked Dean, but he was appreciative of the show nonetheless.

"Maybe if I'd already made dinner already," Dean answered, feeling cooler than he ever had before when the punk laughed at his earnest statement that he hadn't meant as a joke.

"I just ordered Indian," the other man stated, grinning madly as propped up a couple of pillows against the headboard before plopping back on them next to Dean. "I hope you like spicy food."

"I do," Dean replied, shaking his head fondly at the punk before crossing his legs underneath him until he knew for sure how much cuddling he was going to be allowed to do with the other man. "But I've never eaten Indian food, what if I don't like it?"

"Then we can't be friends anymore," Cas answered simply, shrugging his shoulders at Dean.

There was a long beat of silence in which Dean tried to figure out a way to come to grips with how easily it seemed Castiel could toss him aside, over something silly like not liking a certain food, before the punk burst out laughing and tugged on the back of Dean's shirt; patting the broad expanse of his chest in an invitation for Dean to move closer.

"Dude, I'm kidding! If you don't like it then I'll cook you dinner, okay? Something special."

"I should make you cook me dinner regardless, jerk." Dean muttered, his shy smile as he tucked himself under Castiel's arm and laid his head on the punk's chest belying the angry tone of his voice.

"Maybe I will," the punk said back challengingly.

"Well okay then," Dean retorted using the same inflection.

It was so painfully domestic, like something out of a sappy summer romance movie, but Dean could care less how cheesy they sounded with their faux bickering because for the first time he felt resoundingly comfortable in his own skin. All those bullies from his hometown and all of the pressure he felt to do well in school just faded away under the lazy brush of Castiel's fingers against his upper arm as they cuddled. He even forgot to start Doctor Who until Cas mentioned it, which, whoa. He had never forgotten Doctor Who ever.

About half an hour later, Cas peeled Dean off of him long enough to get up and go get the door when the delivery guy from the restaurant arrived. Returning to spread the ginormous bag of unfamiliar food out on the end of Dean's bed and taking a couple of minutes to demonstrate how to eat the vegetable biryani and chicken tikka masala without making a mess using the garlic naan instead of a plate or utensils. It was all delicious, but Dean was reluctant to do more than shrug when the punk asked him what he thought of it; hoping to earn a homemade meal from the other man mostly because he was curious about what exactly Cas would cook for him.

"I don't get why you started on season three," Castiel complained for probably the fifth time since Dean had started the show. "They're making a whole bunch of references that I don't get."

"It's not season three," Dean explained, forcing himself to not roll his eyes or sigh because he'd already explained it a couple of times and he might have found it just a little bit endearing that the punk didn't get it yet. "It's the Third Doctor. A bunch of stuff with the First and Second Doctor's was lost when the BBC reused old film so this is the best place to start continuity-wise. They actually explain a lot of stuff if you pay attention, which I've been telling you-"

"Well I can't pay attention when you're all good smelling and warm and shit beside me, okay?" Castiel interrupted, gesturing at Dean's seated form with the piece of naan that he was holding. "So move your everything somewhere else and then I can follow along with your show."

Dean swallowed the last spicy bite of curry that he had been chewing, his eyes wide behind his glasses as his brain sluggishly registered what the punk had just said, reanalyzing it because there was no possible way he had just heard Cas admit that he was as affected by Dean as Dean was by him.

"You're done eating, right?" Dean asked hoarsely, moving quickly to start snapping shut the styrofoam containers that all of their food had come in.

"No, why?" the punk asked, his annoyance clear on his face when Dean snatched the naan out of his hand and got up to deposit all of the assorted food item anywhere that was off of the fucking bed already. "What? No, Dean, don't kick me out man. I'm sorry, 'kay? I made it weird-"

"I'm going to kiss you now," Dean declared, clambering back onto the bed so that he could straddle Cas's thighs and push him down into the pillow with mostly his lips, but also his hands pushed firmly into the punk's wild hair.

The other man let out a noise that was a cross between surprised and pleased, giving Dean enough time to push his tongue past the other man's lips so that he could sweep it around Cas's tongue ring and over the inside of the other man's cheek. But Castiel soon got with the program, his strong hands finding Dean's waist and fisting themselves in the fabric of his t-shirt tightly enough that Dean wouldn't be surprised if it ripped from the force of the punk's grip.

He didn't understand how the punk could be so wonderful and sexy and blind, but Dean wanted to taste the kindness that lurked, hidden inside the other man; feel it down to the bottom of his toes and bury it deep inside so that he could draw on it later when he needed it. Castiel was strong and beautiful and Dean wanted him so badly that it hurt, but how could he tell the other man that without scaring him away? Without sounding needy and weak and pathetic?

Luckily his thoughts didn't have a chance to get any darker because one well placed nip of his teeth against the punk's bottom lip was all that it took for Cas to let out an oh so sexy growl. The world lurched around Dean and he gasped when his back hit his mattress hard, his head cradled by the other man's hand in his hair so that he didn't hit the headboard when he suddenly found himself pinned beneath Castiel's solid weight.

Cas took advantage of Dean's surprise to start biting and sucking his way down Dean's jaw, earning a moan from him as he clutched onto the punk's sinewy shoulders for dear life. God, he was so hard and they hadn't even been kissing for five minutes, if he had gotten to jerk off before Cas got there then he wouldn't be about to come in his shorts like a complete dork.

"Cas," Dean whimpered, his nails involuntarily digging into the other man's back as the punk started sucking over his pulse point; teeth worrying at the tender skin for an endless second before the other man hummed in acknowledgment of Dean saying his name. It felt like heaven. "I hate to ask you to stop, fuck. But-"

The punk chose that moment to roll his hips down against Dean's, the unmistakable feeling of hardened flesh grinding down against him making it so the only response that Dean could force out was a ragged moan.

"Tell me to stop and I will," Castiel all but growled against his throat, tongue laving against the bruise that he had sucked onto Dean's neck before he stilled his hips and held himself still. "Tell me what you want Dean."

"I need you to stop," Dean whispered, cursing his body because what he wanted and what he needed right now were two completely different things and he hoped the punk understood that he was trying to make a distinction.

Cas let out a shuddering sigh above him, before slowing moving away from him; brushing his stubble and lips against Dean's cheek in the softest most chaste of kisses as he did so. The punk threw himself down into the empty space that Dean had left on the outer edge of the bed and covered his face with his arm, ignoring the blatant bulge in his own jeans even as Dean subtly adjusted himself next to him.

"I'm sorry, Cas," Dean muttered softly, embarrassed by how little control he had over his body around the punk.

He would never live it down if he came like a shot just from the other man kissing him. That first time together, Cas had made him come twice and Dean was bound and determined to blow the other man's mind if he ever a chance to get him in that position again.

"No," Castiel replied, his voice sounding stretched thin. "I got too...yea. I didn't mean to push it that far. We only agreed on kissing, I'm sorry."

Dean had no idea what the other man could possibly be sorry for, he was the one that jumped Cas, not the other way around. But then the punk was suddenly sitting up and making his way across the room towards the door and the only thing that Dean could think was that Cas was leaving. Was fed up with wasting his time on someone as inexperienced as Dean was.

"Cas, don't go," Dean objected, scrambling across his bed after the other man who stopped at his doorway and gave him a pained looking version of his trademarked smirk.

"I'm not leaving, gorgeous," the punk explained, making a vague gesture in the direction of the bathroom with his hand. "I just...I need take care of something or I'm not going to be able to stay in that bed with you and that's exactly where I'd like to be. 'Kay?"

"Oh...right," Dean said quickly, nodding his head even as his cock twitched from all of the images that were immediately brought to mind when he thought of Castiel needing to suddenly rush off to the bathroom. Maybe Cas was just as on edge as he was. "Yea, I'll pause the show. Go ahead."

The punk nodded, raking his eyes over Dean who had ended up on his hands and knees on the bed as he chased after Cas, before letting out a frustrated sounding sigh and disappearing from the doorway. Dean was unsure of how long he would have, but he knew that if he wanted to keep Cas in his bed, but still stay sane there was only one thing he could do.

Falling back against the pillows, Dean fought with the buttons of his fly for a couple of seconds before he managed to get his shorts and boxers pushed down far enough that his cock sprang free. The skin was flushed an angry red and there was already precome glistening at the top, pooling in the concave indentation of his slit. Yea, this definitely wasn't going to take long; especially since he knew that Cas was probably doing the exactly same thing he was in the bathroom down the hall.

Dean didn't even bother with the lube that was in the nightstand right next to his bed, settling for licking a spit-slick stripe up the center of his palm before he wrapped his hand around his cock; setting a pace that was tight and fast and way too dry to feel good if he weren't so worked up already from kissing Cas. It only took a minute or so before he was coming, spilling onto his stomach that had been exposed when he had pushed his shirt up to roll his nipple between his thumb and his forefinger in an effort to get that last little bit of pleasure he needed to push him over the edge.

He had just thrown the tissues that he had used to clean himself up into the trash when Castiel appeared in the doorway, the punk's lips looking bitten and his cheeks flushed with a gorgeous blush that Dean wanted to see again and again.

Dean watched as the other man settled back on the bed near the wall, ignoring the way the sheets were more rumpled from Dean's writhing than they had been before he left and the faint smell of sex and sweat that permeated the air, almost masked by the lingering scent of the spicy, foreign food they had been eating. Castiel ran his fingers through his hair and then patted the space beside him, smiling softly when Dean curled up close to his side again and threw a leg over the punk's.

"Your fly's still open," Cas stated simply after Dean had twisted to click his mouse on the pause button on the screen.

_Well, of course it fucking is._ Dean thought as he re-buttoned the buttons with a rueful groan and then promptly took it back when Castiel leaned down and kissed him again. Maybe his life wasn't quite so fucked after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I know updates for everything have been few and far between, but I'm working on it. The overwhelming consensus so far is that California Dreamin' is going to be the next fic I update, so if you read that one just sit tight; it's coming.
> 
> Don't be shy in telling me what you think of this chapter, the playlist for this fic will be updated soon on my [tumblr](www.itspronounceddeathsteel.tumblr.com) so yea, that's all the housekeeping I have. Hugs and Kisses til' next time!


	12. cat? pssshhh, more like schrodenger's relationship...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Eventually the man comes to see that he has a mind, and that his mind is like a fist, wrapped tightly around a single thought. He cannot open the fist to look at the thought, for fear that it will fly away, but he knows that it is very important and that he must hang on to it, no matter what the cost."-Ben Loory, _Stories for Nightime and Some for Day_

Dean expected Lisa to be pissed about the hickey because it was right on the hinge of his fucking jaw and he had no idea where to even begin with covering it up the next morning when he saw it in the mirror as he was getting ready for work. Charlie had stayed the night at Dor's, leaving her makeup bag behind, but Dean was too afraid of upsetting the laws of nature by touching it to try to figure out what he could use to try to cover up the mouth-shaped bruise.

So he'd just worn his button up shirt with the highest collar to work and hoped that his boss wouldn't notice, which she _had_ because she wasn't fucking blind, but she also had no choice but to let Dean work the down stair's reference desk because Garth was out sick with some weird summer flu that would probably end up being the T-virus and turning them all into rage zombies and Aaron had asked off to go to a doctor's appointment with Muriel. Lisa stuck him next to the comic books like that was some kind of punishment (not) and told him to turn his collar up before stalking off to aggressively restock bookmarks.

When Cas texted him around noon to tell him good morning, Dean just snorted to himself over the fact that the punk apparently was just getting up and sent a picture taken in the BookPeople bathroom of him waving a hello, making sure to bare his mauled neck for good measure. They had ended the night before with a few more chaste kisses, mostly initiated by Dean though the punk seemed enthusiastic enough about receiving them if the soft sighs of contentment each time they broke apart were anything to go by.

After Cas had left he had pressed two of his fingers against the bruise and jerked off imagining that his own touch against his skin was Cas's; the punk firm grip holding him in place as he fucked his cock down Dean's throat with tender words of murmured affection and praise. It wasn't something he was especially proud of okay, but it had happened and the mind-blowing orgasm that resulted from the fantasy wasn't exactly going to convince him that it should stop happening anytime soon.

A very small part of him muttered darkly that using someone he knew as jerk-off fodder was mega-creepy, but a much larger part demanded to know whether or not Cas thought of him like that too. It was clear the other man had been interested when they had been kissing, but maybe it was a proximity thing; the fact that another warm body had been involved in the action that did it for the punk and not necessarily a wanting-to-fuck-Dean-stupid thing.

 **Cas:** Awww, sweetheart. Sorry again. Dungeon duty then? _[12:14pm]_

Dean smiled to himself as he wandered back towards the stairs, typing out a reply as he went so that Lisa wouldn't give him crap for playing on his phone when he was supposed to be helping customers. It didn't matter if there actually _were_ any customers, he was supposed to look attentive and eager just in case one came; there might have been a section in the training about it. Never mind that Charlie spent all day eating cookies and raiding with her guild on WOW on her tablet over in the cafe, no; Dean had to be johnny on the spot with answers to every question under the sun.

 **Dean:** Nope, we're short staffed, but crazy slow. Stop by, I'll buy you a cup of coffee? _[12:27pm]_

He debated all the way back to the reference desk and halfway through an entire cart of harlequin romances that he was supposed to be stocking before sending Cas the message, wondering if it was too forward of him to ask the other man to come see him. Maybe the other man didn't want to spend his day off in a dusty old bookstore waiting around for when Dean would be able to take breaks or slack off enough to talk to him. Dean would watch the same movie six times in a row if it meant that he got to flirt with the cute punk waiter all day, but he already knew he liked Cas as more than just a friend, would never _not_ , but the other man probably didn't feel the same.

Dean went back to stocking after he sent it, leaving his phone in the drawer at the reference desk so that he wouldn't be tempted to check it every five minutes and lost himself in his work instead, promising his itching fingers that as soon as he finished putting the books away he could check his phone for new messages.

A tap on his shoulder startled him out of where he was crouched over the bottom-most shelf, re-alphabetizing the Steele's by title order because if someone came looking for any one book in particular right now they would have a nightmare of a time finding it, and ended up falling flat on his ass when he flailed at the touch and lost his balance; bumping his head on the wooden shelving and knocking his glasses off of his face as he went.

"Shit," Dean cursed, scrambling to his knees and patting gingerly at the floor directly in front of him, hoping that his glasses hadn't gone far because he was pretty desperately blind without them. "My glasses!"

A male voice made an amused sound above him and Dean replied with the biggest mental 'fuck you' that he could manage to project without the customer going to complain about his attitude to Lisa, but seriously. What kind of asshole laughed at someone for losing their glasses?!

"Oh yea baby," The customer said lecherously as Dean sighed audibly before reaching to grope under the bookshelf he had been working at, arching his back to stretch further as a last desperate resort. "Now say 'Jinkies!' for me and I can check another box off my Hanna-Barbera role play bingo card."

"Are you serious dude?!" Dean asked horrified, twisting up sharply to a less compromising position on his knees before he realized that made him look pretty damn compromised too and clambered to his feet; squinting his eyes to try to see more clearly as he took a cautious shuffling step forward and pointed a stern finger in the direction of the blurry pervert harassing him. "We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone so-"

"You're refusing to _service me,_ eh?" the amused voice asked, breaking down into giggles. "Well, I'm sure my brother will be relieved to hear that."

"Yea? Well you and your mongoloid brother can both just get out," Dean snapped, gesturing in the direction of the reference desk that was behind him. "I'm calling the cops."

"He's not at the-Christ, Gabe what did you do now?" Another voice asked, causing Dean's head to twist sharply in direction of the new person, worried that it was the creep's brother and...wait.

"Cas?" Dean asked hopefully, the new voice registering as familiar a few seconds later than normal because of the panicked-adrenaline caused by not being able to see pounding in his veins. "Cas, is that you?"

"Yea baby, its me," the voice replied and Dean let out a sigh of relief when he felt a familiar hand settle on his back. "Hey, where are your glasses?"

"I accidentally knocked them off," Dean muttered, embarrassed more than anything to be seen so helpless by the other man; blind and getting picked on by bullies. God, it was just like high school all over again.

"Fuck, Gabe could you be any more of a fucking dick? Help me find his glasses," the punk snapped and Dean tried to push back the honey glow that threatened to envelop him when he heard Cas's worried tone. It was probably just Cas taking pity on him, nothing to get all swoony over.

"They're under that table of beach reads," Gabriel's voice replied, sounding bored and Dean could almost picture the flippant hand wave that he was pretty sure he saw the blur of the other man do that direction. "Don't get your panties in a bunch."

The punk let out a huff of breath, almost a laugh but really too annoyed to be one and Dean focused on the sound; hearing a few scuffling noises and a couples of muttered threats and curses before he felt fingers gently taking hold of his hand and turning it face up. The familiar weight of his glasses settled softly into his palm and Dean wasted no time in opening them and shoving them onto his face; grimacing to himself when the saw the smudged fingerprints all over the lenses before taking them off and giving them a cursory wipe with the bottom of his shirt.

When he put them on again the first thing he saw was Castiel standing directly in front of him, his hands still hovering between them like he expected Dean to keel over as soon as he could see, the punk wearing a fond expression that Dean had no idea how to read. Gabriel was lazily reading the back of a particularly steamy looking romance novel, seeming completely at peace with the fact that he was a gigantic jerk.

"Better?" The punk asked, his voice sounding genuinely concerned instead of teasing or flirty like it did a majority of the time.

"You have no idea," Dean answered, giving Cas a thankful smile.

"So you found him," Gabriel stated listlessly, shoving the book he had been holding back onto the shelf in what Dean was pretty sure was the wrong fucking place, before taking a step away from them. "Can I go to the store now?"

"Yea," Cas replied impatiently, making a shooing gesture with his hand that Dean really didn't find adorable. He didn't. "Go already, thanks for the ride."

"It's so great having a sibling who appreciates you instead of one who just steals all your lube," the other man said slapping the punk on the back affectionately before his gleeful smile changed quickly to a confused frown. "Oh, wait...I wouldn't know. Would I? See you later Cassie. Have a _great_ day."

Cas rolled his eyes, not even bothering to look at his brother before he raised a profound middle finger in the other man's direction and took a step closer to Dean and his expression settled into the cocky smirk he was used to seeing on the punk's face.

"So…" Dean started, grasping at something to say to the punk that wasn't a question about lube preferences and why Cas needed so much of it. They weren't dating, it wasn't any of his business if the other man hooked up with other people... "You're here. I guess you were pretty desperate for some coffee, huh?"

"Desperate to get out of my house is more like it," Cas replied with a scoff, angling his head in the direction of the cafe. "But if that's what _you_ want-"

"I didn't even know you'd gotten my message yet," Dean clarified, a blush creeping up his neck when he realized that he had just made an ass out of himself in front of the other man all because he'd been trying to not be clingy. "But, yea. I'm probably due a break anyway, just let me tell Lisa that I'm stepping away."

"Sure, I'm gonna head over to the cafe," Cas said hooking a thumb in that direction as he spoke, his eyes staying trained on Dean even as he took a few backwards steps in that direction. "See you there?"

Dean nodded quickly and took off in the direction of where he'd last seen his boss at a fast walk, skidding to a stop in the middle of one of the aisles when he found Lisa hunched over a glass display case full of handcrafted jewelry that they consigned for a local artisan, checking each small item against an inventory list. She seemed mildly irritated and Dean knew he shouldn't push his luck by asking her for a break right now, but God, he really wanted to drink coffee and maybe make out with Cas; just for like five minutes.

Before he could even begin to craft his plea for a break, Lisa looked up to see him approaching her; her expression changing to an indulgent, exasperated smile that Dean had only ever seen one other time when his boss's kid had ran up to the woman and tagged her "IT" before disappearing back off into the store. Lisa could say what she would that day about her irresponsible babysitter canceling at the last minute, but it had been obvious to all of them when she took off after Ben with a laugh that she loved her freakin' kid.

"Your boyfriend's looking for you," Lisa said teasingly, standing up from her crouch and stretching with a sigh. "Guess you're wanting a break then?"

"He's not my boyfriend," Dean muttered, rubbing a hand over his neck as he surreptitiously glanced around to see if Cas was in hearing distance. "But uh...yea pretty much. Just five minutes would be awesome."

Lisa glanced down at her watched for a second before looking back up at Dean and narrowing her eyes in scrutiny, "Take fifteen, have fun with your not-boyfriend."

"He's really not," Dean objected, giving up on his protestations when Lisa just scoffed in disbelief and turned back to her inventory list.

Arguing with the gift horse seemed like a pretty bad idea, so Dean just booked it in the direction of the cafe; snatching off his name tag and shoving it into the back pocket of the close fitting gray khakis he was wearing as he nervously smoothed over the collar and rolled up arms of his button down.

He wasn't sure why he was so worried about how he looked; Cas had just woken up and it showed in the messy chaos of the other man's hair and the wrinkles covering the punk's mustard yellow Guided By Voices t-shirt (which whoa, musical boner if there ever was one), but when Dean finally spotted the other man frowning down at a magazine with an iced coffee in his hand his breath left his lungs like he had been punched. No one had ever looked better; dirty Converse and threadbare cut offs and pillow creased face and all.

"Dude," Cas said miserably, glancing up when Dean approached him before pointing at the copy of AlternativePress propped primly amongst the other music magazines on the rack in front of him. "What the actual fuck? I used to read AP in junior high and now it looks...fuck. I don't know who any of these bands are even."

Dean just shrugged, he had no idea who any of the dramatically lit bands on _any_ of the magazines that BookPeople sold were either, but he thought it was really adorable that the same fact made the punk all pouty-faced.

"Whatever," the other man said with a sorrowful sigh, turning to hold out the iced coffee in his hand towards Dean. "I got an iced coffee, the girl in the cafe said it's what you always get and that's what I like too so I just got a large for us to share. We're going outside right?"

"You asked Bela how I get my coffee?" Dean asked with a shy grin, taking the proffered drink from the punk even as Cas shrugged and ran a hand casually through his hair.

"Yea, I did," Cas replied simply, looking meaningfully towards the front door and then back at Dean before letting out a sigh and reaching out to take his hand; tugging on it until Dean finally got the point and started following the punk across the store, smiling goofily at the coffee in his hand instead of watching his feet. He trusted Cas to not let him trip and fall flat on his face. "C'mon, Gabe's gonna pick me up on his way home and I don't know how long he's gonna be."

"Well if you have to go soon then we can always hang out later," Dean offered hopefully, blinking against the sunlight when they finally stepped outside. "Unless you have to work…"

"I don't," the punk said shortly, leading Dean over to one of the mature old oaks that ran along the sidewalk in the front of the store and plopping himself down onto the thigh-high wooden planter box that ran around it. "But I promised to hang out with Meg already, she's cooking me dinner or something."

"Oh," Dean replied hollowly, taking a sip of his drink just to have something to do with his mouth that didn't involve him asking the other man if he'd changed his mind about Meg; maybe Cas had decided to like her after all, having a roommate you could bang...it probably had it's perks. "Well maybe another time then."

"Not really," Cas started, raising his hand to shield his eyes from the sun that was shining behind Dean's back. "I'm working doubles through the week so that I can be off to go to Chaos with you."

"Shit," Dean cursed without heat, his heart fluttering around the words _withyouwithyouwithyou_ as they echoed in his head. "That sucks Cas, if you're too tired to go to the pre-shows on Thursday then um...we can just watch movies or something. Dor's friends aren't playing til Saturday afternoon anyway."

"It's fine," the punk said, tilting his head so that Dean's shadow was cast on his face for a brief second. "I just didn't want to be broke next week when we went. I can buy you drinks and records and stuff, pay you back for the ticket."

"I already told you you didn't have to, Cas. I didn't spend any money on the ticket," Dean argued, leaning forward into the space between the other man's sprawled legs so that he could shield the punk from the sun.

Cas just smirked at the motion and reached forward to grab Dean's waist with both hands, hauling him forward until Dean's knees were almost touching the wood that the punk was sitting on and he could feel the heat from the other man's breath against his torso. He switched the coffee to his left hand and placed his now free palm against Castiel's neck, earning a shiver from the punk when Dean's cold skin touched his own.

"Maybe I just wanna buy you stuff then," Cas muttered, looking up at Dean with from underneath his lashes as he flipped the hoop of his lip ring back and forth in a way that seemed almost nervous which was ridiculous because, Cas nervous?

It also shouldn't make Dean's heart beat faster, but it did anyway because he was a moron for being in love with someone who may never love him back. The realization that he was that far gone on Cas made Dean reel, letting out a gust of breath that definitely _did not_ sound like a whimper (seriously, ask anyone) and leaning even more into the punk's space so that he could use the other man's hold on him to hide the fact that his knees had suddenly turned to jelly.

"Maybe I'd like you even if you didn't," Dean replied breathily, feeling like the awestruck look that passed over Cas's face was surely just the punk mirroring his own because the other man must have realized by now that Dean at least had a crush on him; hopefully Cas hadn't figured out the love part yet, if it scared Dean to be in love it would probably scare the shit out of Cas to be the object of said affections.

"Come here," Cas ordered roughly, his voice low enough to send a thrill of anticipation down Dean's spine as he felt the hands spanning his waist tighten incrementally.

Dean stooped until his face was level with the other man's, hastily setting down his coffee next to Castiel so that he wouldn't drop it when he eagerly put his hand on the nape of the punk's neck so that he could toy with the short, dark hairs there. He was always surprised by how soft Cas's hair was, expecting it to be stiff from a ton of product that kept the dark brown locks artfully spiked throughout the day, but apparently Cas was lucky enough to have perfect hair and by proxy Dean was lucky enough to be able to run his hands through it.

He expected to be kissed thoroughly by the punk as soon as their faces were close enough, but Cas just looked at him, brought a hand up to sweep the drooping hair off of his forehead, and then let his thumb track down over his eyebrows and the curve of his jaw until it was resting on Dean's chin just below his bottom lip. Dean didn't know if the punk wanted him to take the initiative to draw the digit into his mouth, nip and suck on the tip of it until Cas just dragged him off into an alley and pushed Dean firmly to his knees, but they were in public and he knew he didn't have the balls to do something so brazen where other people could see; so Dean settled for watching Cas watch him.

It was a surprisingly heady experience being the sole focus of Cas's electric blue eyes, but Dean figured that maybe it was because he had been hiding in the crowd for so long that he had never expected someone to find him interesting enough to pick him out of one. But Cas had, even before they had met the punk had done just as much noticing of Dean as Dean had of him; that thought alone had helped him come to terms with the whole you're-the-only-person-I-think-about-when-I-jerk-off thing he had going on for Cas right now.

"So are you going to kiss me or what?" Dean whispered bravely, earning a small scoff and an eye roll from the other man before lips were pressing gently and carefully against his own.

It was probably exactly the way you were supposed to kiss in public, but apparently the primal part of Dean decided that if he wasn't going to get to see Cas for a couple of days the least he could do was kiss him thoroughly enough that the punk wouldn't even think about kissing Meg or anyone else besides him. Lizard-brain Dean was petty and jealous and territorial, but apparently he was also a whiny bitch and when Cas's hands moved to his hips to in all likelihood push him away, Dean just made a desperate noise at the back of his throat and fisted his hand in the collar of Cas's t-shirt in order to keep him close.

Cas finally _finally_ took the hint and opened his mouth enough to let Dean sweep his tongue into the other man's mouth, flicking over the hoop in his lip and the barbell in his tongue before he lost his momentum which okay, wasn't really his fault. He would've been perfectly fine if Cas's hands hadn't suddenly tightened their grip on his hips and _squeezed_ , making Dean's mind immediately fly to all the ways that Cas had yet to manhandle him in bed and it was a thing for him apparently, alright?!

Dean pulled far enough away to let out a whimper, intending to follow it up with a demand for Cas to take him somewhere, _anywhere_ , and fuck him right the fuck now, but the punk took the gesture as an invitation to mouth his way over to the hickey he had already left on Dean's neck.

"No more marks, Cas," Dean managed to choke out, tugging on the other man's hair when he felt teeth scrape over the already sensitive bruise. "Lisa'll kill me or maybe fire me."

"Both're bad," Castiel muttered with a sigh, ceasing his ministrations with a final kiss to the mark on his neck before pulling back and pushing his face into the crook of Dean's neck and groaning. "Fuck! This week's gonna suck so hard."

"Yea," Dean agreed softly, apologetically smoothing down the hair he'd pulled on the other man's head before standing back up straight so that his muscles would stop screaming at him; Cas's hands remained on his hips but their grip slackened until their presence was just a comfortable, grounding weight. "But we can still text and worst comes to worst I can always just go see a movie."

"Or I could get the sudden urge to re-read the whole _Discworld_ series," the punk countered, grinning triumphantly when Dean's mouth dropped open in surprise. Of course, Cas would be a Pratchett fan; all of that dry, scathing wit had to come from somewhere.

"Do you really have to hang out with Meg tonight?" Dean blurted, immediately regretting the question as soon as it left his lips because it made him sound like a needy boyfriend who wanted to Bogart Cas from his friends when in reality he had no right to claim the former and people who did the latter made him want to puke.

"Babe, I _have_ to hang out with Meg tonight," the punk answered, seemingly unaware of Dean's inner turmoil. "But as soon as I get done flossing all of the quinoa out of my teeth, I'll call you."

"I'd like that," Dean replied, letting his hands run down the punk's shoulders until they were resting on Cas's forearms; thumbs brushing against the dark hair there that he couldn't stop being fascinated with. "We can talk about what bands we want to go see next week."

"Hmm, smart and handsome," Cas hummed teasingly, giving Dean's hips another gentle squeeze before he let go and snatched up the coffee at his side. The punk took a few hefty gulps, inadvertently drawing Dean's eye to Cas's bobbing Adam's apple and yea, he kinda understood the other man's obsession with his neck now, before offering the majority that remained to Dean. "And I bet you have the perfect voice for phone s-"

A honking horn interrupted the punk, causing him to frown and peer around Dean who had also turned to see Gabriel pulled up at the curb in his battered Nissan, gesturing wildly to his wrist when he saw that he had Dean and Cas's attention. After a few agonizing seconds of charades that even Cas seemed to only partially understand, Gabriel rolled down his window and started shouting.

"C'mon Cassie! You knew we were on a schedule when we left the house," the older man called, laying on the horn again to emphasize his point. "I literally have places to be and people I should've been doing half an hour ago. Kiss him goodbye and move your ass!"

"Je-sus," Dean muttered, blushing when several customers walking across the parking lot gawked at the other man; he ducked his head to avoid their gaze and turned back to Cas just in time to see the punk rising reluctantly to his feet. "You really don't have to go, y'know? Hang out and I'll take you home when I get off."

"It's fine," the punk replied, his voice betraying the fact that it wasn't actually as fine as he wished it was. "I promised Meg that I'd be home in enough time to go to the store with her anyway."

"But didn't Gabe just go-" Dean started only to be cut off by another loud, long honk.

"I'll talk to you later, 'kay darlin'?" Cas stepping forward to grab Dean's hand and then leaning in like he was going to kiss him only to stop sharply when Gabriel continued to tap out a tune only he seemed to know on the horn of his car. "I'm gonna fucking murder him."

"Not if I do it first," Dean muttered, casting a dark look over his shoulder that had Gabe raising both of his hands off of the wheel in surrender. "He didn't seem like he was in that big of a hurry when he _wasn't_ helping me find my glasses."

"Sam probably texted him asking how much longer he'd be tied up," the punk replied with a shrug, leaning forward to place a kiss on Dean's lips that was so swift he didn't even get a chance to fully enjoy it before Cas was jogging easily towards the car; stopping before he climbed into flash Dean one more smile. "I'll call you later, I promise."

Dean nodded and forced a smile, peeved that the little time he was going to get with the other man had been cut short, before heading back into the building with what was left of his iced coffee and the quickly fading touch of Cas's lips and teeth against his throat. He really wasn't expecting to be greeted with the entirety of his assembled coworkers and even a few of the wispy-haired older ladies who usually came during the lunchtime lull when he made it back inside, but at least they didn't insult his intelligence by trying to pretend like they hadn't been watching him and Cas.

"Dean," Becky hissed, practically pulling herself over the front counter that housed the registers as she spoke. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"What?" Dean asked, glancing nervously at Bela and Lisa who were both watching him with matching expressions that were eerily similar to a cat who had just caught the canary. "It was just Cas. You've met him before Becky, he's in here all the time."

"And for good reason too," One of the older women declared, using the Nora Roberts paperback in her hand to fan herself as her cohorts nodded in agreement around her before starting to drift off back into the store.

"He was asking how you take your _coffee_ , Dean," Bela declared, her eyebrow twitching to match the inflection in her voice.

"Well he likes it the same way," Dean argued, waving his cup around as an example. "He was just being considerate and making sure I would like what he got me."

"I could've told him you liked Apricot Boba-Tea and that guy would've bought it and happily drank it too," the barista countered, her voice the same kind of deadly serious that she used when she lectured her coworkers about all the HgH in cow's milk these days. "Trust me Dean, the fact that he cared enough to ask means something."

"Okay, coffee-guru," Dean replied sarcastically, causing Lisa of all people to let out a snort of laughter that she quickly turned into a full blown coughing fit when Bela shot her a dirty look. "Tell me what it means when someone wants to know how you like your coffee."

"It means he likes you, idiot," the woman snapped, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder with a sniff of distaste before she stormed off in the direction of the cafe.

"Well he wouldn't be my friend if he hated me," Dean muttered sourly in an attempt to hide that he had actually been hoping for some insight into why Cas seemed to treat him so wonderfully when the punk didn't seem to give a shit about what anyone else thought of him.

"I think he's a little in love with you," Lisa announced matter-of-factly, having finally smothered her laughter enough to pick up her clipboard and flip it back to the page that she had been working on. "But that's just my opinion. Becky, gossip about Dean's not-boyfriend later when he can't hear you. Dean, name tag on. Now, let's get back to work guys."

Dean rolled his eyes at his boss and quickly slung his name tag back around his neck, depositing his coffee at the reference desk before he went back to where he had been alphabetizing before Cas and Gabe had shown up. But for the rest of the day he couldn't get what Lisa had said out of his head, a little in love with you. A _little_ in love...what the ever-loving fuck was that supposed to mean?

* * *

Had Cas known that paying Meg back for all of the beer and rides to work meant that he had to play guinea pig for her cooking experiments...well, he probably would've just stayed thirsty and fucking walked. The only pro was that his roommate seemed to have finally given up on trying to sleep with him, spending the entirety of their time at the Natural Grocers that Meg liked to frequent bitching about how Balthazar wasn't returning her calls instead; which was great because that meant that his coworker was actually listening to his advice.

He tuned her out for the most part, making sympathetic noises anytime it seemed fitting and bullshitting his way through dinner when she asked for his opinion about her recipes; it all fucking tasted the same to him anyway, weird sauces and too many whole grains and no where near enough trans-fats or red meat. Cas begged off of dessert at about nine, claiming that he was too full to possibly try the beetroot and dandelion sorbet that Meg had concocted for them when really he was just itching to talk to Dean.

Every time he saw the other man he felt like they were building towards something; something fragile and wonderful and important. Only they kept getting interrupted or Dean would say something that would make him second guess whether or not the other man was feeling the same polarized pull that Cas was feeling and he would back off, worried about pushing for more than Dean was willing to give and losing the other man completely.

It was frustrating and terrifying and everything he had never wanted to deal with ever again after losing Daphne the way he had, but he wanted it almost more than breathing.

The last two years he had been running from anything that even smacked faintly of permanency, worried that if he stayed in one place too long his past would catch up to him or if he got too attached to someone then it would repeat itself and his bad habits would cause him to lose another person he cared about. People kept telling him what happened to Daphne wasn't his fault, but the small contingency that said it _was,_ called him a no-good junkie who destroyed everything he touched, were louder and more insistent and their accusations were what had kept him running from state to state; never settling even when he felt so bone tired of the ever-changing scenery that he hadn't even needed beer or weed to help him get to sleep.

The frantic, exhausted peace never lasted though and he always fell back onto being at least slightly dependent on his depressants of choice in an effort to not be completely sleep-deprived all the time. He expected the same thing to happen with Austin, in fact he only vaguely remembered his interlude with Ritchie because of how wasted he'd been, but since coming back he'd only smoked out once or twice when several days of insomnia stacked up on top of him and he had to work in the morning.

He wasn't sure if feeling better was due to Dean, but the fact that he could once again recreationally drink and smoke without feeling like he was pretty much spitting on Daphne's grave was nice. The urge to do any harder drugs had been forever quashed after his ex and the one and only grief-stricken binge he had gone on after her funeral that ended with him stranded in Hawaii with nothing but a backpack full of clothes and twenty bucks in his wallet. But probably most surprisingly, the lingering certainty that it should've been him instead of Daphne was gone as well and Cas was pretty sure that was at least partially due to Dean being in his life.

"Meg, seriously, I couldn't eat it even if I wanted to," Castiel objected from the doorway of his bedroom, shutting it as much as possible so that she wouldn't get the idea to try to follow him with the giant bowl of sorbet she was holding. "Everything was wonderful, just great. You're the next Gordon Ramsay, really."

His roommate stopped short in the hallway frowning, but Cas noticed the two spoons that Meg had in her hand and oh, hell no. They were not doing some BestFriendsForever bonding over ice cream bullshit; there was only so much of Meg he could take in one evening and the punk was already well over his limit.

"I'm just so tired Meg," Cas said pleadingly, his fingers itching to pull out his phone and call Dean already. "Y'know tryptophan and stuff…"

"That's in turkey," the woman said, narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously before stabbing the spoons in his direction. "You're being too nice to me, right now; I don't trust it. Was my food shit? Tell me Cas, I can take it."

He paused like he was thinking and really, none of Meg's food had made him want to find the closest toilet so that meant it was probably good, right? "It was the most delicious thing I've ever eaten ever."

"Yes," Meg hissed, sticking the spoons down into the the sorbet before fumbling for the pocket of the little half-apron she had been wearing over her clothes all evening. "Balthazar can blow me, I am _so_ the better chef."

"Yea you are," Cas agreed quickly as she spun on her heel and started back towards the kitchen. "'Night, Meg."

He craned his neck to make sure that she was wasn't going to suddenly come back and start banging on his door with more questions, but he could hear that she was already on the phone leaving a message for Balthazar and he quickly shut his door and pushed his set of folding stadium seats in front of them to keep her out if she decided she needed to complain about his coworker some more.

Cas felt kind of bad for telling the other man to act like an asshole until Meg started paying attention to him, but his roommate had a type that she usually went for and the punk was not above meddling in order to help the pair of culinary students end up with exactly who they wanted or in Meg's case, thought they wanted but really deserved better. He may not like her very much, but he still didn't want to see the other woman end up with a jerk.

Pulling off his shirt and fishing his phone out of his shorts before letting them fall heavily onto the floor with his belt still in the loops and his wallet and keys still in the pockets, Castiel flopped down onto the twin sized mattress in the corner of the room that was currently serving as his bed until he could afford something better. His room was still fairly bare, even with the edition of the stadium seats and the wardrobe that he had bought at Uncommon Objects with Dean, but the only people who had to see it were he and Gabe and Meg so he figured that he could wait to decorate until he knew for sure whether or not his brother decided to renew the lease on the house in November. An outsider would probably think it was sort of depressing, but its not like Dean was chomping at the bit to be invited over and that's really the only opinion he cared about anyway.

He debated about getting out his Fleshlight and the back up bottle of lube that he had stolen from Gabriel almost two weeks ago (Who needed back up lube anyway? His brother apparently.), just in case Dean's phone voice turned out to be as sexy as he thought it was going to be. Cas couldn't believe they had never talked on the phone before, but then again they had probably skipped over all of those integral parts of getting to know each other when they fucked within two hours of meeting.

The toy was stashed away in a shoebox inside his wardrobe, put away in case someone came barging in, but close enough that he could get it if all of his blood suddenly left his brain. The latter thought plus the creepiness factor of having the toy there waiting for the inevitable moment when he got turned on by how unknowingly sexy Dean always was was what made him decide to just leave it packed away. If their conversation took a turn in that direction then Cas was pretty sure his hand would be enough to get him off, years of stamina and experience be damned.

Castiel settled himself in the cranny of the wall with a pillow tucked behind his back before dialing Dean. The anxiousness of waiting for the other man to pick up manifested itself in the nervous fiddling with his lip ring, flipping it back and forth with his thumb before tapping it with his tongue ring. Daphne had said it was always his biggest tell and made fun of him for it and whoa, he really should not be thinking about her right now; it wasn't fair to Dean.

" _Hello?"_ Dean's voice answered through the earpiece, sounding if possible deeper and a contented sort of hushed on the phone. It reminded him of how the other man had sounded in bed after their one night together and fucking hell, it was perfect. " _Cas? Hello?"_

"Yea," He rasped out, clearing his throat as he resolutely tugged his other pillow into his lap; determined to not let his libido or the memory of Dean's perfect bubble butt ruin what could potentially be a meaningful conversation. "I'm here babe, sorry. Its not too late to call, right?"

" _No,"_ Dean objected softly, and Cas felt an accompanying squeeze of fondness in his chest. " _I'm just laying down, not asleep yet. I wanted to talk to you."_

"I wanted to talk to you too," the punk admitted with a sigh, fingering a loose thread on the cheap plaid pillowcases that had come as a bagged set with his sheets and blanket. "How was the rest of your day?"

" _Boring,"_ Dean replied quietly. " _I didn't look at bands yet, Charlie made me and Sam clean the gutters when I got home from work."_

"Hmm, that explains why its so quiet here," Castiel said with a laugh, easing down to laying on his back with his free arm sprawled over onto the few remaining inches of space on his narrow mattress; if he tried he could imagine Dean here with him, talking quietly in the dark before they fell asleep. "No porn sounds coming through the walls."

Dean's quiet chuckle made something loosen in the punk's chest, something that he hadn't even known he was holding onto; that last little bit of Daphne's ghost maybe, whatever he had been letting hold him back from falling completely in love with the other man. There was no falling, he was already gone; drowning in the depth of the affection that he had for Dean.

" _If I didn't know any better I'd say you were upset,"_ Dean teased. " _But I know how loud Sam and Gabe can get mid-bone too, so yea. I get why you appreciate the quiet."_

"I know. It's like dude, the only porn sounds I want to hear are the ones I pay for or the ones I'm making," Castiel stated, only realizing how that might have sounded after he said it; his free hand slapping over his eyes as he let out an embarrassed groan. "Ugh, that sounded better in my head."

" _I can't believe you pay for porn, Cas,"_ Dean replied earnestly, startling a bark of laughter out of the punk that he didn't even bother to smother. " _Don't laugh, I'm so serious. I can download you so much porn, Cas. Just tell me what kind and I'll give you a thumb drive or something."_

"Do you download porn for all your friends?" Cas asked only half jokingly, he really wanted Dean to define their...whatever this was that they had. He didn't know if he could do friends who made out forever, but if that's all Dean wanted from him then he could sure as hell try.

" _Um...sure I guess,"_ Dean answered, his voice unsure and suddenly tight sounding. " _I mean, we are friends right?"_

"You tell me," the punk replied shortly, realizing how confrontational the statement might sound after he said it and desperately tacking on a joke to try to salvage the conversation. "I mean...you haven't even accepted my friend request yet so…"

" _Friend requ-On Facebook?"_ Dean sputtered adorably, making Cas smile despite the worry that was making him flip his lip ring back and forth with his tongue. " _Cas, I don't even use my Facebook like...ever. All my friends are people I know from high school and my sister, not people that matter."_

"And I do?" he asked before he could help himself. He needed to know that he mattered to Dean, even if it was just as a friend.

" _Of course you do, dork,"_ Dean replied and Castiel could hear the faint squeak of bed springs through the phone. " _But I guess I'll accept your friend request anyway. Now I can Facebook stalk you and real life stalk you. Oh man, 'Crash Adler'? Is that your alter ego that I've never met or something?"_

"Shut up," the punk muttered, smiling despite himself because he liked that Dean picked on him; in his family banter was just a way to show you cared. Most people didn't get it, but the fact that Dean did _meant_ something. "I don't know how to change it back, its been like that since high school."

" _I like it,"_ Dean said and Cas could almost hear the playful smirk that was surely on Dean's face as he spoke. " _Sounds kind of a like an amateur wrestler name, but it suits you. And...Done, we're Facebook official; just don't make fun of my chubby pictures from high school."_

"Oh shit, chubby Dean pictures?" Castiel said excitedly, arching off of the bed enough that he could snag his battered, sticker encrusted laptop off of the upturned milk crate he was using as a nightstand. "I've got to see this."

" _I'm going to go 'like' all of the embarrassing pictures of you that I can find,"_ Dean retorted and Cas could hear the other man's mouse clicking furiously in the background before his old laptop had even had a chance to boot up. " _I'm sure there's some in here with swoopy hair or bondage pants somewhere. Christ, Cas you have a lot of pictures."_

"Hazard of being disgustingly photogenic," the punk said simply, shrugging in the dark like Dean could see him as his laptop sputtered to life.

" _Hmmm, that's_ _ **gotta**_ _be what it is."_

He opened up his browser and navigated to Facebook, ignoring all of the notifications and hateful messages from people that he used to think would never abandon him, Cas clicked over to Dean's page which was no longer blocked for privacy since his friend request had been accepted.

There weren't a lot of postings on the other man's wall and there were even less pictures of Dean; most of them were ones that he'd been tagged in by a Jo Smith and Dean was just in the background smiling or photo bombing the blonde girl who had to be his younger sister as she made duckfaces with a group of girls who looked to be around her age. The ones from high school showed a much younger Dean seriously holding a trombone in a band uniform, chubby cheeks flushed with high color from exertion and then a few more of Dean looking more like Cas knew him now, chiseled cheekbones and burgeoning muscles prominent under his cap and gown. All the rest were group pictures with Dean and one or more of his various roommates in at concerts or in BookPeople.

Besides that there were a few posts from an Ed and a Harry asking Dean how school was going with the most recent one being from Ed posting an almost indecipherable paragraph about someone named Corbett with a bunch of exclamation points and heart-eyed emoticons. Basically it looked a lot like Cas's own neglected Facebook page, abandoned for years save for when other people mentioned him in a post or tagged an old random picture from a show he had played or attended.

At least Dean had filled out the basic information sections, Cas's only had his birthday and gender; he hadn't really seen the point in adding anything else since his current location hadn't been a fixed point in years and getting anything more than his GED had kind of become the one thing his Maimeo lived for anymore, if only just to nag him about it.

" _Okay, and now I'm feeling creepy,"_ Dean announced after a few silent moments, his voice sounding a forced sort of cheerful that Cas had never heard from the other man before. " _I'm just gonna turn this off otherwise I'll never get to sleep."_

"Oh, the punk said quickly, hesitating before he snapped his own laptop shut. Dean was right, just breathing at each other while on the phone was kind of weird; he's called to talk to the other man, not to pop unexpected boners over how Dean had looked in high school."Well, yea. If you need to be up early then I can let you go. I just promised I would call an-"

" _Can we just...I don't know, talk some more?"_ Dean interjected quickly. " _I just...I know its weird but I like the sound of your voice. Great, now I feel even creepier."_

"No, I get it," Cas assured the other man, putting his laptop on the floor so that he could stretch back out on the bed; tucking his phone in between the pillow and his face so that he didn't have to hold it. "I like your voice too. I can't believe we didn't do this sooner."

" _Me either,"_ Dean agree softly, the bed springs squeaking faintly and the rustling of covers crackling through the line for a long moment before the hum of silence settled heavily between them again. " _You should talk to me until I fall asleep."_

"About what?" the punk asked, smiling softly at Dean's request; that kind of comfortable intimacy was exactly what he wanted with the other man, even if it meant they only ended up being the best of friends and nothing more.

" _Well I just found out how old you are, which is freaking me the fuck out a little,"_ the other man admitted, his voice shaking just a bit as he spoke causing Cas to mentally curse himself because Dor had told him Dean had just turned twenty-one at the beginning of the year and four years hadn't seemed like much of a difference to the punk. He knew _he_ sure as fuck didn't act his age so maturity-wise he and Dean were probably on the same page or at least close enough that Dean wouldn't freak out when Cas turned twenty six in December.

" _How about you tell me more about you?"_ Dean continued, yawning in the middle of his sentence as he spoke and unintentionally bringing the grin back to Castiel's face because of how adorable he was.

"There's a lot to tell," Cas replied in a hushed murmur, partially because he was worried about Dean would think of him if he told him about the not so pleasant parts of his past; parts that had gotten people he loved killed. "I don't know where to start."

" _The beginning, duh,"_ Dean snarked tiredly.

"Well, I already told you I'm from California," Castiel began, speaking softly so he could hear the gentle breathing on the other end of the line as it evened out and deepened. He only told Dean good stuff that night, stuff from his childhood, the rest could wait; at least until the punk knew if Dean felt the same as he did. Then maybe he would tell Dean everything else, maybe.

* * *

Come Monday Dean had just finished setting up a local author with a consignment for their books when his phone vibrated on the front desk next to the front register's keyboard. He smiled his way through the final pleasantries with the older woman, feigning interest in her non-fiction book about fairy-lore in Marfa, before giving her a final wave goodbye and making a controlled dive for his phone.

He and Cas had been alternating between texting about nothing in particular throughout the day and having in depth conversations about everything ranging from music to movies to their favorite restaurants in their hometowns every night. It was like when they had first started texting only about a trillion times better because now Dean got to fall asleep to the punk's sleep-roughened voice in his ear. The only downside was the subsequent disappointed sinking sensation he got every morning when he had woke up to the other half of his bed being cold and empty. It was a harsh reality that he was still trying to come to terms with, but it didn't make his interest in the other man dissipate in the slightest; in fact, every little tidbit of Cas's past that the punk shared with him just made Dean want to know more.

The rules of reciprocity meant that Dean always ended up sharing just as much about his own background with the punk as Cas did with him. He'd already told the other man about growing up feeling like an outsider in a narrow-minded town and how he took any route available to escape which led to his interest in comic books and superheroes until he got old enough to find the meaning in the music he now loved. Cas told him about being raised by his grandmother after his mom had died when he was in junior high and how the anger he had over losing the only reliable parent he had was channeled perfectly into learning how to play loud, fast chords and singing until his voice gave out. Dean didn't ask where Cas's dad was, but he got the feeling that the Adler patriarch was a subject he should stay away from.

It was realer than the texting had been, Dean could hear the timbre of Cas's voice and imagine how it would feel in his bones if the other man was telling him the stories of his life against the hollow of his throat. Fine, it _was_ kinda pathetic to have painfully domestic fantasies based off of his conversations with the punk and Dean more than kinda knew that.

He craved his interactions with the other man and every time he got a text notification or heard the American Football song that he had set for the other man's ring tone (Okay, Sam had given him a _look_ the first time _Honestly?_ had played when Cas called, but Dean was becoming comfortable with pining and Sam could just fuck off.) he could feel his heart start beating faster and his palms start sweating in anticipation. It could be some terrible, meaningless knock-knock joke, but it was Dean's and he was storing up every single word he could in case Cas decided that Austin (and by proxy, Dean) wasn't for him.

 **Cas:** Does the wristband for Chaos get us into secret shows? _[2.36pm]_

Dean frowned at his phone, trying to remember what, if anything, Sam had told him about the wristbands. As far as he knew they were for entrance into every pre-show, after party, and label showcase going on all over Austin for the festival; he had no idea why secret shows wouldn't be included in that. How could a show be secret anyway?

 **Dean:** I don't see why not, have Gabe ask Sam if he sees him first. _[2:38pm]_

A few seconds later his phone vibrated again.

 **Cas:** Ugh, what's with Sam and morning sex btw? Every. Fucking. Morning. _[2:39pm]_

He let out a snort of laughter, narrowly avoiding running straight into a fixture of signed books that they had just moved to a new place as he typed out a reply.

 **Dean:** Yea, Charlie has been sexiling herself to Dor's when Gabe stays over at ours…

He debated about whether or not to offer the punk a place to stay when Sam was at his house; the couch would be what a friend would offer, but they were something a little more than that right? What with the kissing and the talking and the touching...he wasn't just making it all up right? Surely Cas wasn't like that with everyone….

But then Dean thought back to the punk's Facebook with its albums upon albums of pictures that Cas was tagged in; hugging and kissing and hanging off of various people at raucous looking parties or eyes closed and sweaty, singing on a makeshift stage in a lot of dingy looking bars and venues. The other man seemed to share everything about himself with everyone, no one was a stranger as far as Cas was concerned and Dean couldn't help but wonder if his friendship with the punk was just an intense version of that same openness.

And then there was an unlabeled album full of photos of Cas wrapped up in a tall, strong jawed, brunette girl; hands comfortable on her narrow hips and so much obvious fucking love in both of their eyes in the photos where they were looking at each other that it made Dean's heart ache. Dean had no idea who she was, but they were all tagged with a broken link to a Facebook page belonging to a David Allen who he could only assume had taken the pictures and then deleted his account.

Cas hadn't ever told him about a girl, but he hoped that she wasn't someone who the punk had made love him and then left behind. It would just kill him if the other man was a serial heart breaker.

 **Dean:** Yea, Charlie has been sexiling herself to Dor's when Gabe stays over at ours, but you can come over when Sam's at yours if you want. _[2:45pm]_

He nervously picked at his fingernails as he waited for a reply from the other man, wincing when he ripped a small strip of skin off the side of his thumb and started bleeding. Dean was searching for a band-aid in the clutter that made up the storage drawers at the reference desk when his phone finally buzzed again.

 **Cas:** Slumber party! _[ 2:58pm]_

 **Dean:** :) Anytime you want, mi casa es su casa. _[3:00pm]_

* * *

**Gabby:** I'm reclaiming my lube, deal with it. _[8:36pm]_

 **Cassie:** How did you go through a whole new bottle already?! Do you just grease Sam up or what? _[8:45pm]_

 **Gabby:** Nice Fleshlight. I don't know why, but I thought you had the mouth one too. _[9:18pm]_

 **Cassie:** gtfo of my room, asshat. _[9:20pm]_

* * *

**D.B.:** Steve's band is playing on Sat at 2 at Valhalla, you're coming right? _[7:07pm]_

 **Castiel:** Sure am, pretty lady. I owe you a few drinks for the Dean advice, I think he's starting to like me. _[8:32pm]_

 **D.B.:** Jesus H. He already likes you, poopface! But forget the drinks, I'm craving brownies. You feel me? _[8:45pm]_

 **Castiel:** I'll bring the cocoa if you bring the dairy. Meg went into a lactose rage last night and threw out all my butter. _[8:52pm]_

 **D.B.:** Roger that. _[9:00pm]_

 **D.B.:** Cocoa=weed, right? _[9:01pm]_

 **Castiel:** ...yes, Dor. _[9:09pm]_

* * *

**Joanna Beth:** musm, bb. byfrd trbl, tmb asap. _[11:14am]_

 **Dean:** ...Yea, I don't understand any of that. _[11:16am]_

 **Joanna Beth:** omg i cant even, u r so lame. _[11:20am]_

 **Dean:** I know, you never let me forget. I'm at work. What do you need? _[11:25am]_

 **Joanna Beth:** ntflx thrpy skype me when ur home? _[11:28am]_

 **Dean:** Okay, Jo. How bad is it though? _[11:31am]_

 **Joanna Beth:** breaking bad bad _[11:31am]_

 **Dean:** Fuck, I'll call you as soon as I'm home. _[11:32am]_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I'm ending this update on a weird note, but I seriously already have the next 10K words written I just have to give it a final read through, but I also have to be at work in 5 hours so...sleeeeeeep. Anyway, let me know how you're feeling about this chapter and I'll be updating the playlist that goes along with this fic on my tumblr {itspronounceddeathsteel} very very soooooon.


	13. for a theoretical physicist, he sure has shitty business acumen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> " You don’t decide to be an addict. One morning you wake up sick and you’re an addict. "- William S. Burroughs, _Junky_

When Dean told his family that he had decided to move across the country for college Jo had made him promise her one thing: anytime, day or night, that she needed him (to rant about their parents or ask him something or just talk) he would make himself available as soon as he could. He unreservedly agreed to anything his younger sister wanted, partially because he felt bad about leaving her behind in Sioux Falls, but mostly because Jo was spoiled rotten by every single member of their family, Dean included.

Sure they fought, but what siblings didn't? In the end, Dean was wrapped around Jo's finger just as much as their dad and probably Victor were and she fucking knew it. So as soon as he had gotten home from helping Aaron and Garth move around the heavy stage and podium they kept on the upper floor of BookPeople for when they had authors come to do readings and washed all of the resulting dust off of himself, Dean asked Charlie if he could borrow her laptop and settled himself on the living room couch to watch Netflix with his little sister.

He changed into a well-loved Tigers Jaw t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts after his quick shower, not caring if his hair dried in awkward cowlicks because he would have plenty of time to fix it tomorrow before he met Cas for an early afternoon show that the punk wanted to catch at Trailer Space Records. Logging into Skype and placing the call to his sister was the work of a couple minutes and Dean commandeered the one oversized recliner in the room so that he could prop Charlie's computer onto the seat's wide arm and angle the camera so that Jo didn't have to stare straight up his nose while they talked.

Yea, this wasn't his first go 'round talking Jo down from a crisis situation and usually by the time they were on their third or fourth episode of a Gilmore Girls or Felicity marathon she had calmed down enough to see that solving her problem wasn't impossible. Dean was happy that the knack for finding melodrama in every little thing seemed to have passed him over, he and Jo had always been balanced like that.

"Deeeaaannn," Jo groaned as soon as the call was connected, her head buried in her arms that were crossed on top of her familiar desk where Dean knew her computer sat; the posters for some TV show about werewolves that she was obsessed with lately causing a brooding, chiseled two-dimensional face to look like it was hovering over Jo's shoulder. "My life is ooovvveeerrr."

"Oh man, I'm happy _I_ didn't peak at sixteen," Dean replied innocently, earning exactly the dark look that he was expecting his sister to shoot him before Jo rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath, leaning back in her desk chair to cross her arms over her chest and pout.

"Your sarcasm is not helpful," Jo stated with a distasteful sniff, probably trying to hide the fact that she had been crying even though her red-rimmed eyes were an instant giveaway. "And also I'm pretty sure you peaked in utero because you're like, technologically disabled."

"Do you text mom like that?" Dean asked, pulling his phone out of the pocket of his shorts so that he could refer to it. "Because I'm pretty sure 'mushma' doesn't mean fucking anything to her either."

"It was 'Miss You So Much', jerk. And I take it back, miss you never."

"Liar," Dean replied, smiling fondly at his younger sister's pixelated form on the screen as she agitatedly tugged her long hair up into a ponytail. "Now pick what we're watching so you can tell me what's going on."

"I was thinking we could do a _Grease_ marathon…" the younger woman muttered in a begrudgingly hopeful tone, like she was the one doing Dean a favor and not the other way around.

"Sure," Dean said with a shrug, leaning away from the computer to grab the remotes for their TV and game system off of the coffee table. "I don't have any plans tonight. Why _Grease_ though? You usually hate musicals."

"I don't hate musicals," Jo argued, her eyes focused somewhere else on her computer screen as she reached out to maneuver her own mouse. "I just don't get why you get all bonerific over _Rent_ every time its on Bravo."

"It didn't adapt well to film, okay?" Dean countered with his usual answer, this wasn't a new debate by any means. "And you're avoiding my question, what's going on with you? Why did you Heisenberg me?"

His sister's eyes briefly met Dean's through the miles and miles of distance separating them before she looked up at her bedroom ceiling and blinked purposefully in that way she did when Dean knew Jo was trying not to cry.

"Do you remember when we were kids and mom always dressed us up in matching costumes for Halloween?" Jo asked after a few long seconds, glancing back at the screen long enough to see Dean's nod. "Well, I was thinking about that year when she dressed us up as a Pink Lady and a T-bird. I threw a fit that everyone thought I was stupid, simpering Sandy when you got to be Danny freakin' Zucko, but I loved that pink jacket.

And okay, I get why they went with Sandy. My hair wasn't Frenchy pink and Rizzo was cool and all, but a little too heavy for a ten year old to idolize what with the teen pregnancy scare and all. Step though, in Grease 2, she was a boss. She worked on cars like me and didn't see the point in being all fancy, but she was still a Pink Lady. She had opinions, but was still classy as fuck. I just kinda need to make sure I'm still like that."

"Okay," Dean said slowly, remembering how he got made fun of for having a matching Halloween costume with his baby sister when he was 15 more than anything else, but yea, he could see where Jo was coming from. "But why are you feeling like you need to reaffirm your badassery? Do I need to come cheer you on while you beat someone up? Because I'm really good at that."

His younger sister let out a snort, pushing up the sleeves of the flannel over shirt she was wearing and before she steeples her hands under her chin with her elbows propped up on her desk.

"No," Jo sighed. "But didn't I always say you would make a great cheerleader?"

"That you did," Dean answered, sensing that the answer he had been waiting for was finally coming from the younger woman. Jo may have a flair for the dramatic sometimes, but she was also loathe to ask for help from anyone but Dean so chances were she had been bottling up whatever it was that was bothering her until she had no choice but to text him; especially if she wanted to avoid their dad's version of "help" that usually just involved glaring things into submission.

"Vic gave me a ring," Jo blurted in a high voice, burying her face in her hands again immediately afterward as Dean processed what she'd said enough to at least notice that she wasn't _wearing_ any rings; his sister had never been much of a jewelry person since it tended to get messed up when she helped their dad out in the shop.

"Like...an engagement ring?" Dean asked cautiously, trying to feel out if Jo was panicking because she was happy or because she was pissed; it was hard to tell sometimes.

"Oh God, no!" Jo practically shouted, dropping her hands to reveal her paled face as she spoke. "I'm still in high school, for christsakes. Ugh, no just...no. It was like...a promise ring-type thing. Which is just as bad, right?"

"I don't know," Dean answered honestly, rubbing a hand over his mouth as he thought it over. What would it mean to him if someone gave him something like that? "I guess it depends on what you're promising? Like is it a 'promise to love you forever' ring or a 'promise to make an honest woman out of you someday' ring?"

"Well I didn't fucking ask him to specify when he showed it to me," Jo ranted, her voice still maintaining that hysterical edge that Dean knew oh too well.

"What did you?" Dean asked, immediately regretting the question when his younger sister turned a bright beet red, blushing all the way up to the tips of her ears just like Dean did. "Oh god, Jo. Did you like...I don't know, throw up on him or something?"

"No, but...uh...I kinda kicked him out of the house in his boxers?"

"You were having sex with him in the house?" Dean asked incredulously, he _never_ would've even made out with someone in high school if his parents were home, let alone have sex with them. But then again, back then he hadn't really had people lining up to lock lips with him so… "Where the hell were mom and dad?"

"I ditched school," Jo admitted, wincing even as she said it because Dean had graduated with perfect attendance, all four years, and it had gotten to be a weird point of stubborn pride for him by the end of his senior year.

"Joanna Beth-" Dean started, getting cut off when his little sister put up her palm on the screen to stop him.

"No! I don't need you to middle name me," the younger girl stated. "I need you to tell me that being one half of a couple doesn't mean I have to give up being a whole person on my own; I just can't be the kind of person whose entire life revolves around who they're with."

"Okay," Dean said wryly, enjoying best the conversations that he had with his sister where he didn't have to actually do any work; especially since his experience when it came to relationships was pretty tragic. "All those things you just said, pretend I said them."

"You are so fucking unhelpful. How are we related?" Jo groused, leaning back to cross her arms sourly over her chest. "I don't even wear rings, why didn't he get me a necklace?"

"I'm sure he'd buy you a chain for it if you asked him to," Dean offered because at this point Jo accepting the ring was a moot point, they both knew that she was less concerned about how the shiny looked and more concerned about what it would mean if she tied herself down in any way shape or form.

Tying yourself down in a town like Sioux Falls, meant tying yourself to the town itself and all the expectations that came along with the biggest small-minded city is South Dakota; it was part of the reason why Dean had been so eager to escape from his hometown in the first place.

"Yea," Jo sighed out, before throwing her head back with a groan. "God, it was a fucking beautiful ring too. I guess I'll have to apologize to Vic for freaking out, huh?"

"Yes, absolutely," Dean replied, flicking around on the Playstation controller until he found _Grease_ ; queueing it up on the screen before turning back to the laptop. "So are we still watching some movies or what?"

"Yea, I've got hours to kill until Vic gets off work," Jo replied. leaning back in her desk chair to snatch her blanket off of her bed; cuddling it to her chest as she settled herself more comfortably into her seat. "Unless you have something you need to share with the rest of the class yourself?"

Dean immediately thought of Cas, his hand unconsciously going up to where the hickey the other man had left had long since faded from his neck, but what did he actually have to share about the other man besides the fact that he had made a friend who was hot like the sun and kissed him like he wanted to memorize how he tasted. Jo wouldn't understand and Dean really had no coherent way to explain his attachment to the other man since he still didn't even really understand it himself.

"Nope," Dean said easily, popping his 'P' in a carefree sort of way. "I'm hopelessly devoted to you, sister dear. Living vicariously through you is plenty of drama for me."

"Ugh, that song is worse that the sad mom song in _Willy Wonka_ ," Jo stated, her nose crinkling in distaste. "Come on, let's start this. Are you ready?"

"Yea, I'm all queued up," Dean said, shifting his feet so he could sit cross legged in the chair. "Okay, press play on three."

" _On_ three or we're saying three and then pressing play?" Jo asked, like always.

The lag in their respective viewing experiences was a never-ending source of annoyance when they Skype'd like this, but Dean had learned to bite his tongue when Jo complained about him giving away a plot point with his reactions any time he was the one who ended up ahead in their movie. It had happened one time when the younger girl had insisted they fuel her Bullock addiction during his first year in Texas and his quiet gasp in his dorm had completely ruined _The Blind Side_ for her; whatever.

" **On** three," Dean repeated, waiting until he saw Jo's nod of confirmation on the screen before he turned back to his own television across the room. "One. Two. Three."

They made it all the way to _Summer Lovin'_ before their uncoordinated duet of the song made them realize that Jo was ahead of Dean in the movie, but they unanimously decided not to sing anymore and didn't bother trying to fix it; Dean might have still sang _Grease Lighting_ to himself when he got up to get a glass of water and told his little sister not to bother pausing on her end, but Charlie couldn't hear it from her bedroom anyway so he was unconcerned about being teased about it later.

His red-headed roomie emerged from her room right as Dean and Jo were getting ready to start _Grease 2_ , ducking down to wave at Jo on the screen and let the younger girl coo over her new haircut for a few moments before sprawling out on the couch on her stomach with her feet kicked up in the air behind her.

"I always liked the second one better," Charlie said with a shrug when Dean asked her why she was only just now joining them. "The song in the bomb shelter is my favorite."

"See I always liked _Score Tonight,"_ Jo piped around a mouthful of Pringles that Dean honestly couldn't remember her leaving to go get from their Sioux Falls kitchen. "But Dean's favorite is…"

" _Cool Rider_ ," Jo and Charlie finished together and Dean managed to cover his face before they saw how hard they had made him blush.

Okay, Dean may be prone to watching musicals as he did his homework, but he was still pretty sure he had only watched _Grease 2_ once or twice since he had been living with Charlie. Apparently that was enough.

"It's 'cause he likes bad boys," Jo continued, snickering at the groan of protest Dean let out from behind his hands. "Always has."

"Hmmm, _that_ explains a few things," Charlie hummed, giving Dean a pointed look that thankfully Jo couldn't see from where he had the laptop settled and turned back to the TV; foot bobbing to the beat of the song that was playing over the opening credits.

They hadn't made it ten minutes into the movie before the sound of the front door opening brought them out of the hushed quiet that the trio had fallen into as Frenchy set up the back story of the T-Birds and the Pink Ladies for Sandy's cousin Michael.

"Honey, I'm home!" Dor's voice crowed cheerily from the front door, causing Charlie to pop up into a sitting position with an excited little bounce.

"We're in the living room!" Charlie called back, making grabby hands at her girlfriend when Dorothy appeared from around Dean's chair that had its back towards the kitchen and front door. "Oooh and you brought presents? Must be my berfday."

"You're weird on your days off," Dor muttered leaning to peck Charlie on the lips before raising the Whole Foods bag that she had in her hands in. "And I brought groceries, not presents. We needed milk and butter to make brownies."

"Who's making brownies?" Dean asked, his eyes locked on the television because the Pink Ladies and Co. were on stage talking about _A Girl for All Seasons_ right now and that meant _Cool Rider_ was coming so everyone was just going to have to shut the hell up when his song started.

"That's be me, handsome," A deep voice sounded next to Dean's ear, making him jump in his seat and almost knock Charlie's laptop off the arm of his chair even as strong, familiar hands sprawled across his chest to hold him in his seat. "You're not allergic to nuts are you?"

"Look who you're talking to," Charlie said with a scoff, earning a amused head shake from Dorothy and a thoughtful noise from Castiel who was nosing tenderly along Dean's hairline behind his ear.

"Holy hotcakes Batman," Jo's awestruck voice came from the computer, reminding Dean that he had more of an audience to the punk's seemingly intimate gestures than just Charlie and Dor who knew just how tactile Cas could be. "Who are _you_?

"Jo…" Dean started warningly, he didn't need his sister jumping to any conclusions (which she was uncannily good at) and scaring Cas away.

"I'm Castiel," the punk answered instead, settling his chin on top of Dean head in a comfortable, close sort of way that would make the wheels turning in Jo's head spin even faster. "But my friends call me Cas. You must be the sister."

"Is that how he talks about me?" Jo asked in a shocked tone, pressing her palm to her chest like she was mortally offended but Dean could see her eyes twinkling mischievously as they flicked over every point of contact that he and Cas were making. "Dean you are so rude, not introducing me to your... _friends_."

"Yea, you know enough of my friends," Dean bit out, looking at Cas out of the corner of his eye; the punk smelled a little bit like popcorn so Dean could only assume that Dor had just picked the other man up from work in an effort to surprise him.

Did that mean that Cas had missed Dean as much as Dean had missed Cas this last busy week? Or maybe that it was just more convenient for the other man to stay the night since they planned on getting a jump on a few early shows tomorrow? Cas might just be being uncharacteristically practical and Dean was getting his hopes up for nothing.

"Yea but not all of your friends are this... _friendly,"_ Jo concluded with a waggle of her eyebrows that she definitely hadn't learn from anyone in their family.

"Dean you're going to miss your song," Charlie piped coyly, grinning around Dor's hip as the brunette watched the chaotic proceedings from where she was standing next to the couch with a bemused smile on her face. "You know? A c-o-o-l r-i-d-e-r?"

"Oh yea!" Jo squealed, causing the laptop speakers to crackle with feedback because they couldn't handle the high frequency. "Do you drive a motorcycle Castiel? 'Cause you look like you do and Dean's always had a thing for pocket rock-"

"Gosh, Jo! Shame you've gotta go," Dean practically screamed, leaning in closer to the screen in order to block it from Cas's view; inadvertently knocking the other man's hands off of his shoulders as he did so. "Great talking to you, _sis_. Love ya, bye!"

"What? No!" the younger woman started to protest before huffing out a sigh and lowering her voice. "You better text me later, jerk. I can't believe you didn't tell me about that hot piece of as-"

Dean slapped the laptop screen shut before Jo could make any declarations about the state of Castiel's ass and then set it on the coffee table; leaning back into his chair with a sigh only to be enveloped by the punk's arms again as soon as he did so. Cas leaned down to press his face into Dean's hair, taking a deep breath of his freshly shampooed locks before making a contented sort of noise.

"Happy to see me?" Castiel asked quietly enough that only Dean could really hear him.

"Well I haven't really seen you yet so…" Dean started, grinning wryly when the punk muttered something under his breath about 'pretty-boy smart asses' as he came around the overstuffed recliner to settle himself in the narrow space left between Dean and the arm of the chair.

"Better?" the punk asked without heat, lifting an eyebrow as he smushed himself closer to Dean and wrapped an inked arm around his shoulders. "Comfortable?"

"Very," Dean answered primly, making a show of smoothing out his faded t-shirt and well-worn basketball shorts like they were his best clothes that he owned; earning a bark of laughter from Cas before the punk leaned in to bury his face in Dean's neck.

"Fuck, I missed you," the punk stated softly, tilting his face up enough to kiss Dean on the jaw before settling back down to face the television. "Now can one of you please tell me what the hell were watching?"

"Ain't it obvious?" Dor stated, waving a hand as Michelle Pfeiffer straddled a ladder mid-song. "They're watching _West Side Story_."

Charlie and Dean's mouths both simultaneously dropped open in horror, but it was the redhead who spoke first; pointing a finger at her own girlfriend and then the punk in turn before stabbing it in the direction of the front door.

"Get out," Charlie said emotionlessly. "You're dead to us, right Dean?"

"Psssh," Dorothy said with a scoff, flapping a hand at the other woman before using that same hand to card tenderly through her hair. "Honey, you'd starve to death without me. One D&D tournament and you'd both waste away to nothing. Admit it."

"Fine you can stay, but only if you order pizza," Charlie said, her tone becoming mock authoritative before she rounded on Castiel. "But you! Make yourself useful, Cas, or be gone!"

The punk shrugged before turning to look meaningfully at Dean, giving him about a second to try to figure out what Cas was about to do before the other man suddenly leaned in and pressed his mouth to Dean's, deepening the kiss almost immediately with a slightly hungry groan that Dean felt all the way down to his toes. God, he had been fucking himself on his dildo all week imagining a kiss like this with Cas and now it was happening with an audience and Dean was only wearing thin basketball shorts. Needless to say, he could not cope with getting a fucking boner right now.

Luckily, Cas broke the kiss before it became too heated, pulling back with a final sharp nip of his teeth to Dean's bottom lip. They were both panting and at some point Cas had slipped his hand underneath Dean's t-shirt, but Dean's hand had fisted in the punk's hair so he really had no room to play the innocent, wilting flower card. A low whistle stopped him from asking Cas if he wanted to move this somewhere else and Dean's eyes snapped over to Charlie and Dor who were both watching them with wide eyes.

"Well, damn," Charlie said, breathily; lifting a hand to fan herself. "I don't like penis and even I thought that was hot."

"Yea, how long has _that_ been going on?" Dorothy asked, directing the question at Cas along with an accusing sort of look.

"A gentleman does not kiss and tell," Castiel declared loftily, his eyes still locked fondly on Dean who could only grin at the punk's response."Now come help me with the brownies Dor, I need more than two hands to manage the cheesecloth."

'Cheesecloth?' Charlie mouthed silently at Dean and he could only shrug in reply. His mom's brownies had never required a cheesecloth, but maybe it was an old family recipe or something.

"Sure thing, Cas," Dor replied, bending down to give Charlie another kiss before she offered a hand to the punk to help him out of the recliner. "We'll only talk about gentlemanly things, I promise."

"Horseback riding?" the other man asked, glancing back over his shoulder at Dean as he squirmed his way back to his feet.

"High tea?" Dean offered.

"Croquet!" Charlie piped enthusiastically from her seat, smiling as Dor giggled at all of them and hauled Castiel towards the kitchen. "Order Hawaiian pizza, babe!"

"Over my dead body, babe!" Dor replied merrily.

Dean could only roll his eyes at their antics, still reeling from Cas saying that he missed him and kissing him and just...yea, everything.

He spent the rest of the movie trying to figure out if he should offer to let the punk sleep in his bed with him or just go ahead and get some blankets and pillows so Cas could bunk on the couch. Dean didn't want to seem like he was throwing himself at the other man, but he really really wouldn't be opposed to some more making out. Honestly, he probably wouldn't be opposed to pretty much anything at this point; being around Cas made Dean want to shove his high and mighty morals off a cliff. Why had he not wanted to do friends with benefits again?

Oh yea, because it made him depressed as hell to be thought of as just a dick or just a hole to fuck. But surely Cas didn't think of him that way, at least not now that they were friends. Maybe he'd fucked up by not giving the punk the opportunity to prove that he never would treat Dean like an expensive blow up doll. But now Dean was stuck in this hellish limbo of sexual frustration and doubt and he had no fucking idea how to get out of it. Joy.

A knock on the door signaled the delivery of the pizzas, the boxes brought into the living room along with a stack of plates and the oversized bottle of ranch dressing that Charlie had bought at Sam's Club by Dor who had to run back to the kitchen when Cas started shouting that he needed her help. Not too long after that the smell of chocolate started competing with the smell of garlic and pepperoni wafting out of the untouched boxes on the coffee table and Dor and Cas returned from the kitchen with matching goofy smiles on their faces.

"T-minus twenty on the brownies," Dorothy declared, setting an alarm on her phone after she plopped down on the couch next to Charlie who had decided they were watching _Clueless_ because quote 'its fucking hilarious, okay?' end quote.

"T-minus now on pizza," Cas said, grabbing a plate and loading it with slices before sitting himself down directly in Dean's lap like he owned it which was weird and wonderful and Dean was not going to protest it at all; he simply shifted his hips until he was comfortable too and let his hand drift around to hold on to the punk's hip.

"Any of that for me?" Dean asked hopefully, jutting his chin towards the plate in Castiel's hand.

"That depends do you want to hold the slice yourself or do you want me to chew it up and feed it to you like a mama bird?" The punk asked waving a piece teasingly close to Dean's mouth before snatching it back and taking a bite himself. "I'd rather not end up exiled to the couch tonight."

"My bed was that comfortable, huh?" Dean replied, so fucking lovesick over how Cas was acting tonight that he was about two sweet nothings away from vomiting glitter and rainbows all over the place.

"Or the couch is just that uncomfortable," Charlie added around a mouthful of pineapples and Canadian bacon, completely ruining the fucking moment Dean had going on by the way. "Seriously, we should get a new one soon. I can feel a spring poking me in the ass right now."

"That's just my dick, baby," Dor replied automatically and Charlie nodded in an 'oh, right!' kind of way before turning back to the television.

"They're always like this," Dean said, answering the question he knew was coming from Castiel before the punk even got a chance to voice it.

"Oh, I already figured that out," Cas said easily, fitting a piece of cheese pizza into Dean's hand before picking one up for himself. "But yes, your bed was pretty comfy. Though it might've just been the company, I'm not sure yet."

"More testing is needed to find out," Dean agreed seriously before taking a bite of his pizza in the hopes that it would hide how ridiculously happy he was right then.

"So...we're _sleeping_ together for science then?" the punk replied with an eyebrow raised challengingly.

"Lucky for you, science was my second best subject in high school," Dean answered cockily, attempting to channel the more self-assured half of the Science Husbands ship that he knew Charlie was totally convinced of. He couldn't see it himself, but then again Dean thought that Bruce Banner would always love Betty Ross just like Peter Parker would always love Gwen Stacy. Some facts of the Marvel universe could just not be altered; first loves were a fixed point in time, excuse his mixed fandom metaphor.

"Yea, his first best subject was sleeping so you'll be totally fine," Charlie joked from where she had ended up leaning with her back to Dorothy's chest as the brunette tried to eat her pizza without getting sauce in her girlfriend's hair.

Dor swatted at Charlie's arm, shooting Dean an apologetic look even as the other woman continued to snigger around her slice of pizza. Castiel just continued to eat his pizza, with his usual half-smirk on his face like he had some private joke that he wasn't ready to share with the rest of them yet and handed slices to Dean intermittently until they had eaten almost a whole pie just between the two of them. Then the punk curled up even more into Dean's lap, kicking his shoes off before bringing his legs up and snuggling against him with a soft, sound of pleasure and Dean couldn't help but be reminded of a normally aloof cat suddenly seeking attention.

Cas showering him with little touches was nothing new, but this kind of casual intimacy was a horse of a different color. It felt like the punk was trying to soak up as much of Dean as possible before something happened to separate them and Dean's mind was anxiously racing with all the reasons why Cas might be being so tooth-rottingly nice to him.

What if the other man had already decided to leave and this was just Cas's prelude to breaking the news to him gently? What if Cas had found a girlfriend or even worse, a boyfriend, in the last week and was buttering Dean up before letting him know? That wouldn't explain the kiss earlier, but Dean wasn't always as his most rational when he was starting to panic.

"I had the biggest crush on Paul Rudd when I was younger," the punk announced to the room at large, not moving from the spot where he had managed to wedge his head beneath Dean's chin.

"Me too!" Dor gasped, lifting up her hand towards Castiel and making a high-fiving motion that the punk reciprocated even though there were several feet of space separating them. "He's just so cute and smart."

"Yea, guess you two have a type," Charlie declared with a smug smile, waving her hand in a lazier version of the move that the other woman had just made only moreso in Dean's direction than Cas's. "Genius level hotties, holla Dean!"

"Sure, whatever," Dean muttered, trying to keep how worried he felt out of his voice, but apparently failing because Cas shifted to look up at him with a frown creasing his forehead.

"Something wrong, hun?" the punk asked softly, his voice laced with concern and affection that manifested itself in nimble fingers running through the hair on the back of Dean's head.

"Just tired," Dean lied, biting his lip to keep from ruining the moment by blurting out something desperate that might let him keep Cas, like the fact that he loved him.

"We can go to bed if you want," the punk offered, sliding his hand around to rub his thumb firmly against Dean's temple like he was soothing a headache. "Unless you want brownies?"

"Are they even done yet?" Dean asked hopefully because honestly, he'd forgotten that Cas had made brownies and he was really eager to try whatever he could get of the punk's cooking, especially if he never got the home cooked meal that the other man had promised him.

"They're done if I say they're done," Cas declared, swinging his long legs out of Dean's lap and swiftly standing up. "Sit tight, I'll be right back."

Dean nodded and shifted his legs that had started falling asleep under the punk's weight, resituating himself so that Cas could fit beside him in the chair again if they cuddled. And he was really really okay with the cuddling, totally 100% on board for as long as Cas was willing to give it to him.

"You should lock that down, Dean." Dor stated, her eyes staying fixed on the television as she spoke, but Charlie nodded enthusiastically and made a weird motion with her hand that was a cross between a snap and a point. "Lock. It. Down."

"I don't know what that means," Dean hissed, quickly snapping his mouth shut when Cas reappeared carefully carrying two bowls with spoons sticking of of the piled high brownies.

"Heads up, they're kinda like molten lava right now," Cas explained, handing one of the bowls off to Dor before heading towards Dean with the other. "But I found some ice cream in the freezer so maybe that will cool it down enough that no one burns themselves."

"I don't even care if I blister my lips all up," Dorothy declared, scooping up a hefty spoonful of brownie and vanilla ice cream. "I smelled that cocoa before we put it in and any burns will be well worth it."

"Yea it was the last of my medicinal stash," the punk replied, settling himself next to Dean with his one of his legs sprawled comfortably across Dean's lap and then offered him the bowl. "And I promise you that shit is way better than anything I've seen in Texas so far."

"You'd think with Mexico right there…"Dor started to rant, the majority of her speech getting lost in the huge bite of confectionery that she shoveled into her mouth.

"Is Mexican cocoa better or something?" Dean asked, taking a more reasonably sized bite out of his own bowl before offering one to Castiel who accepted the spoonful with much more tongue swirling and sexy noises of enjoyment than Dean thought was necessarily warranted, but whatever.

"Your question should've been, 'Wait, they make medicinal cocoa?'" Charlie said, letting the other woman shovel a heap of brownie into her mouth before shooting Dean a look that questioned just how much of a 'genius-level hottie' he really was.

"Hold on, what kind of brownies are these?" Dean asked, holding up his hand over the bowl to stop Cas from dipping their spoon back into the dessert.

"Special brownies," the punk replied with an innocent shrug that almost managed to keep Dean from immediately losing his shit. Almost.

"You mean like marijuana brownies!?" Dean asked hysterically, leaning back away from the bowl like it was about to bite him.

"Oh yea," Dor said absently, continuing to eat her own ice cream unfazed. "I forgot to tell you that Dean doesn't smoke, Cas."

"Because I have asthma!" Dean argued, not wanting to look like a moron in front of the other man, but knowing he must because Cas was shaking with silent laughter in the seat beside him. "Stop laughing at me, my inhaler is expired!"

"You're not going to have an attack from edibles, Dean," Charlie drawled, sitting up from where she was laying to level a sincere look at him. "Hell, you could probably shotgun off of someone and be perfectly fine. You can't even taste that there's weed in the brownies, its the perfect way to pop your recreational drug cherry."

"That's not a real thing," Dean said petulantly, feeling like a dork now for freaking out. He'd been around drugs before, at parties or concerts that Charlie or Sam had dragged him out to, but always been too afraid of a cop just _knowing_ that he was high by looking at him to try anything.

Also his dad had a instilled a healthy dose of fear in him when he was younger by telling he and Jo stories of his numerous acquaintances who had taken drugs just once and then died. Dean had never been sure how true those stories were, but the lurking feeling that it would be just his luck to get a bad batch of something laced with another something the first time he popped a pill at a club had always stayed with him.

"Sure it is," Dor replied encouragingly, sitting up and clearing her throat pointedly before looking meaningfully at Dean. "My name is Dorothy Baum and my gateway drug was shrooms."

"Eww, those are so gross" Charlie said, leaning away from the other woman when Dor darted in to plant a sloppy kiss on the side of her face. "I've only ever smoked pot, but I prefer edibles. Makes me less phlegmy."

"Charming," Dor said drolly, rolling her eyes before turning to where Dean and Cas were sitting. "What was yours, Cas?"

"Um...coke I think," the punk said dismissively, poking around in the bowl of brownie and ice cream for a moment before looking up at Dean who was watching him with wide eyes. Cas shrugged and dropped his gaze again, frowning at the bowl. "I was always more of an upper kid, now I just smoke pot though. All that other shit will fuck up your life."

"But brownies will not fuck up your life," Dor interjected, dragging her eyes away from the punk to look at Dean. "They may make bad 90s movies funnier-"

"Hey!" Charlie objected, sticking her tongue out at the other woman when Dor just smirked triumphantly at her before continuing

"And they may make you a little giggly, but really you'll just feel all lazy and loose like you just ate some really delicious fucking brownies."

"That's all?" Dean asked, glancing warily at the mostly full bowl that Cas was still poking at with a frown on his face.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do," the punk muttered, glancing up at Dean from under his eyelashes as he spoke. "I can even make us regular brownies if you want; Dor and Charlie can have the special ones."

"N-no," Dean stuttered, tonguing at the inside of his cheek where he could still taste the small bite that he had already taken. Surely it wouldn't kill him and Cas wouldn't let him eat something that would make him sick, he probably wouldn't even feel any different afterward anyway. "I'll eat these, I don't know why I was freaking out."

"The paranoia usually comes after the substance abuse," Charlie teased, reaching for the remote to turn up the volume on the movie. "But since its your first time, we'll pretend it didn't happen."

Dean rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Cas who was still poking absently at their shared brownies, a small frown of concentration on his face as he methodically mixed the bits of half-cooked chocolate into the ice cream surrounding it.

"Hey are you gonna share?" Dean asked, concerned because normally Cas was one of the first to smile and laugh at something Dor or Charlie said, but maybe the other man was only just now realizing how little Dean had actually lived before coming to Austin.

Shit, Dean was only just now starting to realize it himself.

"Yea, yea," Cas said quickly, letting go of the spoon so it clinked softly into the bowl before he ran his hand over his face. "I guess I'm just tired too, maybe. It's been the longest fucking week ever."

"Yea, it has," Dean agreed softly, struggling out of the seat before taking the bowl carefully out of Cas's lap. "You know what? Fuck it, we're grown ass adults. We're going to go eat these in bed."

"Oh man, that sounds amazing," Dorothy groaned around the spoon that was halfway hanging out of her mouth. "Char, baby. Let's go watch this in bed."

"Fine," Charlie sighed in reply, leveraging herself to her feet with a soft wheeze before she pointed at each of the other three people in the room in turn. "But I plan on being naked for the rest of the night, just so everyone in this house is aware. This is your one and only code nude warning."

"Fair enough," Cas said climbing to his own feet and stretching his arms over his head so that the bottom of his work t-shirt rode up to show tightly packed muscle and ink. "But if I go walking around the house in boxers I'm not responsible for whatever you two see either."

"Better than Sam walking around in those assless chaps that one time," Dor replied with a full body shudder and a shake of her head. "Makes me lean even more to the left just thinking about it."

"Glad I missed that," Dean stated, crinkling his nose in disgust over just image the other woman had put in his head. "C'mon Cas, let's got to bed. Night, guys."

"Yea, I'm coming. Oh hey, can you put what's left of those brownies away, Dor?" the punk asked, letting his arms fall out of his stretch with a heavy sigh. "I'll clean up all the other shit in the morning."

"Yea, I got it sugar'" Dor replied, handing Charlie their bowl of half-melted ice cream before stepping forward to peck both the punk and Dean on the cheek. "Good night, _gentlemen."_

"Shuddup," Cas muttered with a sly smile, taking Dean's free hand with one of his and motioning towards the bedroom with the other. "Lead the way, babycakes."

"Pssh, like you don't know the way," Dean scoffed fondly, tugging the punk along behind him.

He debated about sending the other man on to the bedroom so that he could shut himself in the bathroom to rub one out real quick, but Dean wasn't sure how much it would actually help since he was going to be sharing a bed with Cas all night anyway. At some point he was bound to get a boner and it would either be awkward as hell or...not; maybe it would be better to just get the 'you're just too good of a friend to go there with' speech out of the way now. They had only ever agreed on kissing after all, Dean had no reason to expect that the punk might want something more especially after Dean had been the one to put the current boundaries on their friendship in the first place.

"Oh my god," Cas declared, plopping down on the edge of the bed once Dean had shut the bedroom door behind them. "Pants are so dumb! Why do we even wear them?"

Dean shrugged, turning towards his computer for just long enough to boot it up so that he could give the other man the option of watching a movie or something before they fell asleep and when he turned back around it was to see Cas struggling to push his skinny jeans down his muscled thighs; his green and white plaid boxers in serious jeopardy of being tugged down in the process.

"Thank fuck," the punk muttered, sitting back up to pull the offensive pants off of his feet before tossing them soundly on the floor; his t-shirt being dragged off to joint the messy heap with a thankful sounding groan. "I don't even want to stand up to shower tonight. Honestly, baby, how much do I smell like popcorn?"

"Just a bit," Dean replied absently, shaking himself out of his stupor when Castiel sighed and shook his head; pushing himself further up the bed until he was leaning against the headboard next to the wall. "But um...I don't mind. Just uh...if you wake up to me licking you in my sleep or something push me onto the floor."

"I don't think that would be my _first_ reaction," the punk replied nonchalantly, pointing his toes to stretch his legs before slumping with his arm thrown comfortably onto the pillows that Dean would be using. "You really don't have to eat those brownies if you don't want to, y'know? I won't be like...offended or whatever."

"No, I want to. Really," Dean assured the other man, picking up the bowl that he had set on the desk and his wireless mouse before moving towards the bed. "I've just never really...done any drugs before. Not any that weren't prescribed first at least. What's it...I mean, I'm not going to blackout or anything right?"

"I didn't put fucking GHB in them, Dean," Cas replied, his voice simultaneously soothing Dean's fears and making him hot with embarrassment all over for asking such a ridiculous question. "Weed just makes you relaxed. Oh, and you might get a little bit of dry mouth, but I promise I wouldn't give you anything I thought was dangerous, honey."

"Okay," Dean said softly, nodding at the bowl before handing it to the other man and setting his mouse on the nightstand. "Sorry for being such a spaz-"

"You're not though," the punk said quickly, stopping Dean as he started to pull his t-shirt over his head with the intensity of his look. "It's good that you're asking questions, people who don't ask what they're taking before they take it are the ones who end up getting hurt."

Dean hesitated for just a second before nodding again, biting back the urge to ask Cas if he knew that from personal experience, but deciding it was too heavy of a question to ask the other man right before falling asleep. If the punk wanted to tell him more then he would, pushing for more might mean pushing Cas further away which was the exact opposite of what he was trying to do.

He stripped just his shirt off before slipping into bed, hoping that the additional layer of his basketball shorts would keep him from making even more of an idiot out of himself than he already had that night. The precaution was probably going to end up being for nothing since as soon as Dean finished making himself comfortable, Cas slung a warm arm around his shoulders and pulled him close, but hey at least he could say that he tried if an errant boner popped up.

Get it? _popped up?_ Whatever, maybe he was already feeling the one bite of brownies that he had had, but Dean felt giddy with the skin to skin contact created by his body pressed snug against Castiel's torso.

"Here," the punk ordered softly, offering Dean a bite of the brownies that had now been pretty much reduced to crumbles spread throughout the ice cream, before scooping up more for himself. "See? If I was trying to poison you then I've just poisoned myself too. Trust me?"

"Of course...unless you've spent the last few years building up an immunity to iocane powder," Dean countered, smiling at his own joke for a second before Cas surprised him yet again.

"Inconcievable!" the punk exclaimed dramatically, his gaze flickering over Dean's stunned expression before he broke down into triumphant giggles. " _That's_ what we're watching."

"Agreed," Dean said eagerly, snatching up his mouse and attempting to use it on the flat of his thigh to navigate to Netflix so they could watch _The Princess Bride_. He shook his head fondly as the movie started and switched off his bedside lamp before nuzzling back into Cas's side, allowing the punk to feed him another small bite before he spoke again. "Man, just when I think you can't get any more attractive. Bam!"

"Hmm, you think I'm attractive, eh?" the other man replied sounding more than slightly pleased with himself.

"Well, duh," Dean blurted, because of course he thought Cas was attractive; everyone probably thought the punk was handsome unless they were blind and even then the other man still sounded hot as fucking sin. "I don't let just anyone kiss me, y'know."

"Good to know," Cas murmured, tilting Dean's chin up with the tip of his index finger before he leaned down and placed a soft, chaste kiss on his lips; pulling away just far enough to level Dean with an unreadable stare. "Guess I shouldn't let any opportunities go to waste then."

"If that means more kissing, I'm totally down with that," Dean admitted quickly, probably ruining the tender moment that the other man was going for but not caring if it meant he got those full, chapped lips all up in his grill.

Okay, maybe he was feeling something from the brownies after all.

"C'mere then," the other man said in a low, hushed whisper, reaching over Dean's lap to set the mostly empty bowl down on the nightstand before leaning back against the headboard again letting both of his arms fall relaxed to the bed on either side of him.

Dean swallowed thickly, licking his own lips with a dry tongue before levering himself into the punk's lap; mimicking the position that he had taken the last time they had kissed in his bed only this time Dean hoped he could control himself so that Cas wouldn't make them stop again. He balanced himself with his hands against the headboard on either side of the other man's head, allowing himself a long moment to just look at the punk and enjoy the sight of Cas spread out beneath him; it made all of his fantasies about riding the other man's cock that much more detailed.

The faint light of his computer playing the movie highlighted all of the punk's best features: his chiseled, stubbled jaw, his long, dark lashes, the dips and shadows of his prominent collarbones, and the pale neck that led down to the dark contrasting tattoos that Dean had been warring with himself about wanting to taste. He honestly couldn't believe that he even got this much of the other man all to himself, but then again Dean had never thought in a million years that he would find someone like Cas who embodied pretty much everything he had ever wished for in a boyfriend either.

Only Cas wasn't his boyfriend and that thought alone was enough to stop him from grinding his ass down against the other's dick with a throaty whine and begging to be fucked and cared for until he cried.

"Just kissing," Dean assured the other man, wishing that the weed wasn't making him feel so disconnected from the rest of his body because otherwise he would be asking for so much more.

As it was, the needy, thrum of arousal that he was used to experiencing around Cas was fighting against the sluggish current of his everything else, making it hard to feel anything other than a lazy sort of lust that started low in his stomach and spread outwards until it reached the numbness of his fingers that had moved at some point to bury themselves in Cas's unruly hair.

"Anything you want, baby," Castiel murmured, running his hands carefully up Dean's thighs until they met the bunched up material of his basketball shorts where they stopped to pet carefully at the skin there. "It's all up to you."

Dean's nod was more of a lolling head gesture, but it apparently got the point across to Cas who immediately leaned in and started pressing his lips gently against Dean's neck, following the column of sinew and skin up until he reach Dean's mouth where he stopped with a broken shudder of breath.

"Is this okay?" the punk asked softly, his lips brushing against Dean's as they moved with only a hair's breadth of space between them. His hands had migrated to Dean's hips, still resting carefully above fabric, but gripping tightly enough that it caused Dean to whimper and press closer.

"Fan-fucking-tastic," Dean replied surprising even himself with how coherent he sounded since his brain felt like it was stuffed full of cotton.

Cas chuckled beneath him, giving Dean's hips a firm squeeze that made him moan and squirm desperately in the other man's lap.

"Christ you're so fucking hot," the punk muttered, finally capturing Dean's mouth with his own and kissing him hungrily like he had before in the living room only...more; more teeth and spit and vibration from Cas groaning into his mouth.

It was filthy and absolutely perfect.

Dean wanted to die being kissed like this, with Cas's tongue fucking into his mouth in a way that reminded him of all the other places the punk liked to put the same muscle to use. God, he wanted Cas to rim him for hours someday if they ever got the chance; he was willing to bet money that the punk could make him come untouched from that alone.

"Cas," Dean moaned, his hands sliding down to grip the other man's shoulders as the punk's mouth moved back down to his jaw; stubble scratching deliciously against his skin as Cas started mouthing at the spot where Dean's last hickey had faded. "Fuck, yea. Yea, mark me up again."

And after a comment like that, the feeling of blunt teeth pressing into his neck really should not have surprised him as much as it did, but Dean still reacted by arching his back and grinding his half-hard cock against the other man's abs. Cas made a noise that was a cross between a growl and a whine, pressing his own dick purposefully up against the taunt, slippery material of Dean's shorts; accomplishing nothing much in particular besides reminding Dean of how fucking massive the punk's cock was.

Dean hissed out a curse and wrenched Cas's head up harshly, revealing the punk's half-lidded eyes; the blue having been almost swallowed whole by the large, dark abyss of the other man's pupils. He smashed their mouths together again, giving just as good as he got this time by sucking lewdly on Cas's tongue and biting until the punk's lips were swollen and hot against his own.

Abruptly though, Cas changed the pace, his hands sliding up Dean's torso to hold his face almost tenderly as he forced the slowdown of their frantic movements until they were mostly just panting into each other's mouths between each press of their lips. Dean wasn't sure whose hips started rocking first, so caught up in counting the breaths between each time Cas kissed him that he didn't even realize they were grinding against each other until Cas moaned his name lowly.

"Dean," the punk choked out, letting out a gasp as he rocked upwards to press his cock into the cleft of Dean's ass just as Dean gave a particularly languid roll of his own hips; drawing the movement out so that he could feel as much of Cas against him as possible before they drew away from each other again. "God, I don't want to do this when we're high. Fuck."

"'m not that high," Dean hummed breathily, ducking his head to finally give into to the temptation to lick the tip of one of the jagged, inky feathers curling over the punk's shoulder.

He couldn't feel his legs anymore and he wasn't sure if that was because of the pot or the fact that they might have gone numb from how he was sitting, but he could taste the salty bite of the other man's skin and it made him wonder not for the first time what Cas's come would taste like dripping off his face and running down his chest.

"You're high enough," the punk murmured sounding regretful and nooooo. "Come on sweetheart, let's lay down."

A high whine slipped out of Dean's throat as Cas's hand moved to his waist to gently ease him off his lap, a hiss escaping the punk when Dean canted his hips downwards in an effort to keep himself exactly where he wanted to be. Eventually, though Cas maneuvered them both down until they were lying next to each other on the bed; facing each other and close enough that Dean's hands could barely fit against the punk's chest in the space between them.

He rocked his hips forwards again, panting with his mouth open as he pressed his forehead to Cas's chest and looked down at the obvious erections straining against their respective clothing. There was no where near as much friction and sparks shooting up his spine as there had been when he had been straddling the punk, but it still felt good to have Cas's hands running up and down his sides; blunt nails catching on the definition of his muscles with each pass in a way that made his breath hitch.

"Dean," Cas said huskily, causing the man in question to groggily lift his head to meet the punk's hungry gaze. "If I get you off, I want you to remember. Are you going to remember in the morning?"

Dean nodded quickly, his mouth mashing clumsily against Cas's in his haste to prove how coherent he was to the other man. He thought he was doing a pretty good job of earning at least an epic handy from the other man when suddenly Cas was shaking him awake and smothering a chuckle in his neck.

"Oh my god," Dean muttered, slapping a hand over his face with a groan. "I did not just fall asleep."

"It's okay, baby," the punk assured him, kissing him tenderly on the forehead. "I'd be lying if I said it was the worst thing to ever happen to me."

"Really?" Dean asked, vision fuzzy when he moved his hand away from his eyes to look at the other man.

"Not by a long shot," Cas said softly, cupping Dean's cheek for a long moment before leaning forward to kiss him deep and slow; their tongues tangling but not for dominance this time causing Dean to sigh wistfully when the punk moved away. "Just don't ever throw up on my junk and we'll be good."

"I promise," Dean muttered confidently, letting his eyes drift closed of their own accord as the other man continued to stroke his hand slowly up and down his back. "'N we're picking this up again t'morrow. I won' eat any brownies t'morrow, s' I can enjoy it."

"I think I'm gonna hafta hold you to that," Cas replied in a soothing murmur, pressing one last chaste kiss to Dean's lips before he stilled the movement of his hand and just let it drape over Dean's waist. "Now go to sleep, baby. We've got a show to be at at eleven."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's part two! I considered titling it "the one with all the back and forth" vis a vis Friends. But decided against it. Have I ever said that I love writing Charlie? Because I fucking do. Okay, kids...that's over 20k words written for one (ish) update, I think it's time to give one of my other fics some attention for a bit. My next update will be for Nomad by Fate and I'm going to start writing it today. Check out my tumblr {itspronounceddeathsteel} for the playlist for this fic that will also me going up later today. Hugs N' Kisses til next time!


	14. chaos theory: phase one (better check your hypothesis before you wreck your...yea, whatever)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Chaos is found in greatest abundance wherever order is being sought. It always defeats order, because it is better organized.” --Terry Pratchett, _Interesting Times: The Play_

The next morning, Dean woke up hard which, okay, wasn't exactly an uncommon occurrence because let's face it, he was a twenty-one year old gay guy who usually only had his right hand and a modest collection of sex toys for company. So at first he just went when it when he finally started to wake up enough to recognize the low-simmering thrum of arousal that was coiling in his gut for what it was and just pushed his hips into the mattress with a soft noise of pleasure.

He usually liked the slow build when he woke up like this, especially on days when he didn't have anywhere to be, so he kept his movements lazy; riding that fine line between asleep and awake as he dreamed about hands touching his face and skimming down his abs to curl around his cock. The hands were calloused and long-fingered, familiar enough even in sleep that Dean's slowly awakening mind knew he would start blushing uncontrollably the next time he saw Cas eat finger foods.

Circling his hips with a soft sigh, Dean curled in the hand that was tucked close to his chest so that he could brush it over his own already tight nipples and ground forward into the warm firmness that was pressing back against him in all the right places...

What snapped him awake was when the warmth he was pressing into shifted away from him, grumbling something about ' _five more minutes, baby'_ even as Dean reared away from Cas who was sprawled out on his stomach with his head turned towards the wall. The punk had one leg tucked up and crossed over the other so that his hips were angled in the exact way that Dean's insistently straining dick had found so pleasurable and one arm was still draped heavily over Dean's waist, the relaxed hand cupping the top curve of his backside like the worst kind of tease.

Cas's fingers pressed impatiently into the skin that was just above the waistband of the basketball shorts that Dean had fallen asleep in, trying to get a firm grip so he could tug Dean closer if the younger man had to hazard a guess based on just the unhappy whine the punk made when Dean slid even further away.

He scrabbled behind him toward his nightstand for his glasses and sucked in a choking gasp when the thin sheet that had been draped over he and Cas pulled tight across his waist, forcing his erection down against his thigh at a painful angle. Between trying to find his glasses and trying to disentangle himself from the sheets, it was really no wonder that Dean fell off the edge of the bed; holding his breath once he was on the floor and praying that his clumsiness hadn't caused the sleeping bundle of sex that was in his bed to wake up.

Cas was sleepily running his hand over the space that Dean had just been occupying when Dean chanced a peak over the edge of the mattress and even that sign of wakefulness only lasted long enough for the punk to make a couple of lazy sweeps with his arm before mumbling softly and finally stilling. Snatching his glasses up and shoving them on as he rose to his feet, Dean pressed the heel of his palm into his aching hard-on and tried not to think about how bad it would have been if Cas had woken up to Dean humping him like some kind of animal.

Somnophilia as a kink, he could definitely get behind, but doing it without permission from the other person first just made Dean feel like the worst sort of pervert. So he grabbed the first pair of clothes that he came across in his dresser and cast one more cautious look in Cas's direction as he slipped out to escape to the bathroom, feeling guilty and sort of sick and more than a little freaked out that he had slept so easily next to Cas when he had done nothing but toss and turn with every single one of his past bed mates.

He wasn't supposed to be getting in this deep with the punk, it was just going to hurt more when Cas left or found someone else.

Frowning at the distinct lack of dark circles under his eyes in the mirror as he applied shaving cream to his face, Dean tried to ignore the way his dick was throb throb throbbing against the unforgiving edge of the laminated counter surrounding the sink as well as the nagging, gnawing grumblings of hunger in his stomach. God between the pizza and the brownies last night Dean could've sworn he'd eat-

"Fuck," Dean announced to his reflection that was still half covered in shaving cream as all of his memories of the last night rushed back to him; Jo meeting Cas and cuddling with the punk while they ate pizza and making out in his bed and…."Ugh, I fucking fell asleep on him!"

Dean covered his eyes with a groan, his mind unhelpfully supplying him with images of just what might have happened if he hadn't made a complete and utter dork out of himself _again_.

A knock on the bathroom door pulled Dean out of his internal self-flagellation, causing him to jump a little bit and then be immediately thankful that he hadn't actually started shaving yet when he did so.

"Are you gonna be long?" Charlie's voice sounded cautiously through the door. "I kinda need the sink to uh...wash...something."

"Yea, I'm gonna be a while, Char," Dean called, picking up the razor he had sat on the edge of the sink and glaring at his own pitiful reflection. What a fucking loser.

"Well hell," his roommate announced before Dean heard her start walking away from the bathroom.

Shrugging, Dean went back to shaving; brushing his teeth after he finished even though he was highly doubtful anyone (read: Cas) would be getting close enough to notice his morning breath after last night's debacle. He changed out of the clothes that he had slept in, tossing them into the sink in disgust as he continued to mentally berate himself for missing out on sharing another night of epic orgasms with the punk who he was kinda sorta madly in love with.

He tugged on his new clothes before sneering at his reflection one last time; it was so unfair that even with Cas asleep in his bed-hell wanting to do more than _just_ sleep in his bed, Dean had still managed to screw it up. How pathetic.

Dean shook his head in frustration as he gathered his dirty clothes and then trekked back to his bedroom where he tried his damnedest to not wake up Cas with his creaky bedroom door. The punk had shifted in his sleep and was now on his back in the middle of the bed; one arm still stretched out across the space that Dean had vacated and the other thrown over his eyes to block out the sunlight that was slanting across the sleeping man's form.

God, the punk looked so good sprawled out in his bed that Dean just wanted to crawl back in there and bury his face in the other man's hair, lick his way across Cas's tattoos, and maybe coax him awake with actions that would more than make up for how he'd ruined everything last night. That's like what a cool version of Dean from some alternate reality would do to fix everything, but this reality's Dean just ignored his chance and got in and out of the room as quickly as possible.

Okay, he might have stumbled over one of Cas's shoes that had been kicked off the night before because he was too caught up in staring at the tempting, domestic tableau laid out before him, but he did it with only a quiet curse as he righted himself and managed to flee the room with his cell phone before he woke the other man.

It was only about nine which meant they had plenty of time before they had to be at the show that Cas wanted to catch so Dean decided he could let the punk sleep in for a just a little while longer. If it helped him avoid having an awkward conversation with the other man about his apparent lack of tolerance for anything except alcohol well, then that was just a plus wasn't it.

So he headed towards the kitchen, thoughts of making breakfast for Cas floating through his head as he went; maybe if he buttered up the other man enough then they would never have to talk about last night _ever._ Especially the part where Dean had blathered on about how attractive he found Castiel, which he didn't actually remember doing until he was walking into the kitchen where Charlie was standing at the sink with her back to him.

Dean lean out a groan over how far he had actually managed to shove his foot down his own fucking throat the night before and allowed himself to collapse against the top of the breakfast bar that served as their table for pretty much every meal.

"Dude, I told you I had stuff to wash," Charlie said and Dean could only blink down at the cool counter top that was pressed against his burning, embarrassed face. "So you do not get to judge me when you want to be in the bathroom for-ev-er."

"What?" Dean asked, his breath own breath fogging up his glasses as he spoke because it had no where else to go when his lips were practically pressed against the counter.

"Oh, I thought you were groaning over me," Charlie replied, the sound of the sink cutting off before her voice started moving closer to him causing Dean to look up from the puddle of self-loathing he was hoping he'd drown in. "Well, me and Miguel."

"Mig-" Dean started, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he watched Charlie drying her hands on a large dish towel as she moved to stand next to where he had most of his torso lying on the counter.

Only he stopped when he realized that Charlie wasn't so much drying off her hands as she was drying off a huge, flesh colored double ended dildo that she had apparently been washing in the kitchen sink. Where their dishes got washed, the dishes they ate their food on.

"For fuck's sake," Dean muttered, scooting away from the toy as she laid it out on counter next to him; it was as long as his arm from his elbow to his fingertips, probably longer. "Where was that when Dor showed me your sex chest?"

"It's new," Charlie said with a shrug before her lips turned up in a mischievous smirk. "Dor and I kinda broke it in last night."

Dean grimaced and stood up, eyeing the dildo warily as he made his way to the fridge like it was going to come to life and start wriggling around like some sort of macabre, oversized worm.

"Well, thanks for waiting till this morning to do your clean up, Charlie. That's exactly what I want to see first thing in the morning."

"Gee, if the bathroom hadn't been occupied every time I tried to get in there then I wouldn't have had to," the other woman replied cattily, arching her eyebrow at Dean as he started pulling omelet fixings out of the fridge. "What crawled up your butt and died this morning, Smith?"

"Nothing," Dean muttered, hoping he wasn't blushing from how disgustingly truthful that statement was. "Sorry, I just...its nothing."

"Noooo, tell me," Charlie crooned, swanning across the kitchen to grip onto Dean's bicep; looking up at him and batting her eyelashes as he tried not to look at her pouty face. The pouty face got him every damn time. "Do I need to beat someone up? Let me make it better."

"I don't think you can fix this one, Char," Dean admitted, cracking eggs and separating the whites from the yolks because focusing on the task made him feel more grounded; just because he couldn't keep himself from spewing his feelings all over Cas didn't mean that anyone else had to get caught in the crossfire of his word vomit too. "It's kinda my problem, y'know?"

"I could beat you up if you like?" the other woman offered, moving far enough away from him to give his arm a light punch before pushing against his shoulder until Dean reluctantly turned to face her. "Seriously, Dean. Talk to me, you only eat healthy when you're upset and I didn't see you pull any cheese out for those omelets so I know it's gotta be bad."

Dean rolled his eyes at Charlie's reasoning because he ate healthy when he wasn't upset too...sometimes. Okay, mostly he ate healthy as a way to punish himself, but that was besides the point.

"I just think…" Dean started, biting on the inside of his cheek as he searched for for the right words to explain what exactly was (or wasn't, really) going on with he and Cas. "I think I'm really fucking things up with Cas."

"Oh come on, Dean," Charlie sighed with a roll of her eyes, bumping her shoulder into his as jostled him out of the way so she could dump the egg whites back into the yolks, whipping them together with a fork before he could stop here. "Everything that I've seen says that that's not true."

"Well, everything you haven't seen says that it is," Dean bit out, wincing in apology when Charlie shot him a disapproving look; the redhead getting down a pan from the cupboard where they kept them so she could take over making breakfast.

"Maybe you should stop being so dramatic and just tell me what's going on. Get me the ham, will ya?" the other woman offered, making an impatient gesture towards the refrigerator as she spoke. "Now when last we left you, you and that boy of yours were looking pretty chummy. Dor wanted to bet me that we'd be able to hear you two through the walls, but I figured you'd be a bit more considerate than that since you're always bitching about Sam and Gabe."

Dean let out a bitter laugh, thankful that his burning face was being blocked by the door to the fridge as he rooted around for ham and cheese on the crowded shelves.

"So what did you win then?" he asked as he returned to the redhead's side, crossing his arms over his chest after he'd set down Charlie's requested ham before propping himself up against the counter next to the stove.

"Miguel," his roommate replied with a coy grin, ignoring the retching noise that Dean made as she dumped the first omelet's eggs into the butter-laced pan. "And not that I'm not grateful, because believe me I am, but I'd hate to have won on a technicality. So did you or did you not get some last night?"

"Not," Dean muttered, ducking his head as the blush that hadn't completely gone away yet flared back up on his cheeks. "We watched _The Princess Bride_ , made out a little, and then I fell asleep."

"You fell asleep?" Charlie asked, sprinkling cheese and ham liberally onto the layer of cooked egg that was coating the bottom of the skillet. "Well, that's hella boring in a cute way. I bet Cas just let you drool on him while he watched you sleep like a total creeper. Because he was totally still awake after Dor and I finished fu-"

"Maybe he wanted a glass of water or something, Char," Dean cut in, because now that he had started talking about it; he just wanted everything that was going on with he and Cas out there so that he could maybe get some perspective on it. "And I didn't doze off after a cute goodnight kiss, I fucking fell asleep while we were making out. Like in the middle of it."

"Oh shit," Charlie said earnestly, flipping the omelet together and sliding it onto an empty plate that was sat behind Dean on the counter. The redhead hurriedly turned off the stove and moved to stand in front of Dean, putting her hands on his shoulders. "This is like some traumarama business. Seriously, I need you to tell me the truth. Was it just lips and tongues or were there like hands and...man bits involved?"

Dean shook his head in disbelief that out of all the bat crazy shit Charlie said sometimes, 'penis' was the word his roommate had trouble saying. "Both mine and Cas's bits were definitely interested in the proceedings and I think... I think Cas might have offered me a hand job."

"How do you not _know_ something like that?!" Charlie asked sounding a bit hysterical as she waved her hands too close to Dean's face.

"Ugh, he phrased it weird," Dean explained, grabbing onto the other woman's hands before they could knock his glasses off or smack him; though he was pretty sure he needed some sense knocked into him for sure. "And I don't know man, its not like I planned for things to go that far. We were just supposed to be kissing and well...I climbed into his lap and I don't know Charlie. I got excited I guess."

"I'll say," Charlie huffed out, squeezing Dean's hands hard. "Dean, what exactly is going on with you and Cas? I thought you two were just friends."

"God, we are," the other man answered with a groan, squeezing his eyes shut as he thought of Cas and how good they were together, how happy the other man made him over nothing in particular. "He's like my best friend."

"Jeez thanks," Charlie muttered, but when Dean opened his eyes she was smirking at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "No, seriously though, Dor's my best friend too. I'm not gonna take it personal."

"Ugh noooo," Dean crooned pulling one of his hands away from Charlie so that he could pinch the bridge of his nose. "Cas and I aren't like you and Dor, we're not a couple."

"But you want to be one." Charlie finished, dropping his hands so that she could move back towards the stove. "And its pretty obvious you both like each other. So I don't see what the problem is."

"Well, we want different things relationship-wise," Dean said in a mutter, wrapping his arms around his torso as tightly as he could so he could protect himself from the horrible truth of his situation. "And I'm so fucking terrified of losing him altogether that I'm not willing to risk anything by pushing."

"I haven't seen Cas objecting to you kissing him or anything," Charlie reaching for more eggs so that she could continue making breakfast. "Maybe you should talk to him before you go assuming what he does and doesn't want."

"We have talked about it," Dean admitted, clearing away the tightness in his throat when he remembered how genuinely apologetic the other man has seemed when he had told Dean that he didn't do 'boyfriends'. "We're just friends who kiss, that's it."

Charlie scoffed lightly and dumped another batch of scrambled eggs into the skillet and Dean...well, he tried to not think about how he was with the other man, how intimate their conversations were sometimes, and how every time they started kissing it became harder and harder to stop with just that. Case in point: waking up with your dick pressed against someone's ass.

"It's true," Dean said a little bit more determinedly, nodding his head to solidify his point. "Cas and I are just friends. We'll only ever be friends and that's exactly how we both want it."

"Oh honey," Charlie said sweetly, patting Dean lightly on the arm as she started making another omelet. "Thank Jesus you're pretty because you're just so dumb."

"Hey, what time is it?" A gravelly voice muttered from the entrance to the kitchen and Dean looked up to see a deliciously sleep-rumpled Cas, eyes squinted against the brighter lights in the kitchen as he ran a hand over his rough jawline.

Dean didn't realize that he was staring at the way the punk's boxers were hanging low on his hips until Charlie elbowed him sharply in the side, but thankfully Cas hadn't seemed to realize that Dean was staring either because he was too busy yawning with his arms stretched out over his head.

Fumbling for his phone that he had shoved in his pocket, Dean pushed a button to light up the screen and managed to tear his eyes away from the other man man long enough to register the time.

"Its about 9:30," Dean answered, fairly proud that his voice didn't shake or anything when the other man started ambling across the kitchen towards him; raising an amused eyebrow at the dildo that Charlie had left sitting on the breakfast bar as he passed it.

"Cool, you guys need any help?" Cas asked, moving to lean against the counter at Dean's side with an arm draped casually across the surface at the small of his back; chin dropping onto Dean's shoulder like it was nothing which it probably was because its not like Cas could hear the way that his heart started beating faster or anything.

"Nah, I've got it covered," Charlie said, looking over at the punk before she got a weird little smile on her face and turned back to the stove. "Dean's just lurking, y'know like he does. You should do me a favor and get him out of my way."

"I was just about to go shower," Cas said carefully, looking up at Dean under his eyelashes as he spoke. "But that might be something Dean thinks I can handle on my own…"

"Shut up," Dean muttered with a forced laugh as he blinked hard to get rid of the images of the other man with water sluicing down his tattooed back out of his head. "She's just trying to get rid of me so she can get some alone time with Miguel over there. C'mon, I'll show you where the towels and stuff are."

"Someone sounds a little jealous," Charlie sing-songed after the two men as Dean grabbed a hold of Cas's wrist and started leading him out of the kitchen. "Don't hate on Miguel just 'cause you ain't got Miguel, Smith."

"I don't think Dean has any room left for Miguel, if you know what I mean," Castiel replied as he trailed after Dean, causing the redhead to laugh maniacally at the blush that instantly lit up Dean's face like a beacon.

"Oh man, Dean," Charlie called after them as Dean pulled the punk around the corner as quickly as he could, her voice still trembling with laughter. "I like him; if you don't keep him, I will!"

It wasn't until Dean was leaning in the doorway of the bathroom with Cas and pointing out the cabinet where they kept the guest towels and small horde of hotel toiletries that they all had pilfered during their travels that he noticed the serious look that was on the punk's face.

"Or you can just use my body wash and stuff…" Dean continued awkwardly, swiping a nervous hand over the back of his neck as the other man stepped into the small space with his arms crossed tightly over his chest; causing the tattoos and muscles there to twitch deliciously with the movement. "It's not that big of deal so uh...yea. I'll leave you to it then."

Cas nodded slowly and deliberately and Dean moved to grab the handle for the bathroom door so that he could close it as he left, figuring that the other man maybe just wasn't awake enough yet to process a bunch of info about Charlie's weirdly specific towel preferences. He was almost home free and pondering how guilty he would feel after the fact if he went and rubbed one out while Cas was in the shower when the other man's voice stopped him in his tracks yet again.

"You could y'know," the punk said, his voice rough with what Dean had to tell himself was sleep because otherwise his brain just might implode.

Hell, it might just shatter anyway because when Dean looked up and saw that Cas's eyes were locked on his reflection in the mirror, his brain kinda stalled in the most ineloquent way imaginable; which probably explained his reply.

"Uh...just...what?" Dean asked, confused because what Cas had just said wasn't following along with the rest of their conversation and he felt like he was justified in being just a little bit confused.

The punk watched him for another long moment before shaking his head and letting his arms drop down to his sides with a resigned sort of sigh. " S'nothing, just forget about it. Are you all ready to go?"

"Yea…"Dean answered hesitantly, glancing down at the slightly clingy Pedro the Lion shirt he was wearing with navy blue shorts. "I just need to grab my shoes, but...what's going on, Cas?"

"Don't worry about it," Cas muttered, opening the cabinet where Dean had said the towels were kept. "I'll take a quick shower and then we can grab some food, 'kay?"

Dean nodded, opening his mouth to ask if the other man was really okay, but the punk was already moving to turn on the shower and had his back towards the door so he figured that maybe the conversation was over…

Right?

* * *

Trailer Space Records was a squat, greenish-grey concrete building connected haphazardly to a tin-roofed pizzeria that shared the same lot in East Austin. The bicycle stands and door frame of the building were covered in stickers and graffiti; sharpie hearts with initials inside were scratched into the red paint that shown around the edges of the chains protecting the various fixed speeds from being stolen while their owners were inside shopping or waiting for the upcoming show.

There was a large white van with a small black trailer attached taking up most of the parking area in front of the dumpsters and it was towards the small group of people milling around said van that Cas led Dean once they had parked the Impala at the curb across from the venue cum record store.

"Hey! Crash!" One of the men unloading equipment from the trailer called, causing a few other heads to turn in their direction as the punk ambled closer; leaving Dean's side to give the man who a spoken a brotherly hug punctuated with a few hearty slaps on the back. "Now that you're here you can help offload you lazy sack of shit."

"You mean you couldn't lift that amp and needed my help you fucking wimp," Cas replied, pushing against the other man's head playfully with a wide smile on his face.

The fact that it was the first time Dean had seen the other man genuinely smile all morning didn't bother him in the slightest, nope. Not one little bit.

Breakfast has been a tense affair, with Dor and Charlie trying their very best to break the awkward silence that had settled sometime while Cas was in the shower and refused to break despite their lame jokes and meaningful eyebrows directed in Dean's direction. Before they had left Dor had pulled Cas outside on the back porch, sneaking cautious drags that she probably thought Charlie couldn't see off of the punk's cigarette as they spoke in low voices that Dean couldn't even hope to overhear through the sliding glass door.

In the car Cas hadn't pulled away when Dean has reached over to hold his hand, so Dean had thought things might be improving, but the entirety of the drive the other man had stared solemnly out the window of the car with a dejected look on his face that made Dean wonder if Cas had wanted to touch him at all or was just allowing the gesture out of some weird obligation that he felt because of what had happened between them the night before.

"Whatever, asshole," the other man muttered, hefting the strap of the gig bag he was holding higher onto his shoulder as he spoke. "The sooner you help us set up the sooner you can get your fucking shit out of my van."

"Because you know Dan had to put your guitar at the very back of the trailer," A woman spoke up, giving Cas a sweet smile as she passed by with a snare drum case in one hands and a mike stand in the other. "Don't worry Cas, I didn't let Lucas touch it."

"Unfair," yet another man said trailing after the woman, nodding at the punk in recognition as he passed by. "I paid for that repair job, Mel. Stop sowing seeds of doubt amongst my fans."

The woman let out a loud scoff at she entered the building and Dean tried to step up closer to Cas so that he wouldn't feel like such an interloper in this group of people who all apparently knew each other and Cas well enough to joke and tease one another so easily.

"Dan, this is my...this is Dean," Cas said gesturing between the two men after he had finished shaking his head fondly towards where the woman and other man could still be vaguely heard bickering in the echoing concrete record store. "And Dean this is my old roommate, Dan."

"Just one of many," the other man said with put upon smile. "And I'd shake your hand, dude, but I might throw out my back if I let go of this strap. So're you guys staying for the show too or are you just stopping by to pick up your guitar?"

""Cause its not like I missed you guys or anything," Cas replied with an exaggerated affronted pout. "Seriously, Dan. I'm not just gonna cut and run..." that earned a pointed eyebrow raise from Dan and the punk let out a chuckle before amending his statement. "Alright, I wouldn't do it _again_. I'll stay and watch you guys play. Are you here for the whole weekend?"

"Nah, just tonight. We're heading to Denton tomorrow," Dean replied, beginning to backpedal towards the records store when Mel passed by to grab more equipment and shot him a dirty look. "But look! Grab your guitar, I'm sure you'll recognize the case and I'll see you inside 'kay? Good to meet you, Dean. Cas, we'll catch up afterward."

"Yea!" Cas called, raising his hand in a wave before he started towards the trailer without a second glance at Dean, who really had no idea what to do with himself.

Everyone milling around outside the record store looked hardened in a way that he just wasn't, their rough edges still jagged and obvious while the few that Dean might have ever had had long since been worn away smooth. There was a girl with vibrant pink hair nursing a drink in a brown paper bag against the wall next to the entrance, another girl with dreads and holes in the stockings under her shorts fiddling with an enameled cigarette case at her side.

He had no idea how to talk to cool people, fuck he never had. It was kind of a fluke that he had managed to make friends with Sam and Charlie because they were both secretly nerds which apparently Dor was kinda into that even though she was hella cool all on her own.

So he pulled out his phone and stared at the excel spreadsheet he had made of all the shows that he and Cas had decided they wanted to see; making it had seemed like a great idea when the twitching urge to see or speak to the punk who he had missed too fucking much got too hard to handle, but now looking at it it just made him feel like a desperate, dorky loser. No wonder Cas didn't want to hold his hand in front of all of these people.

"Hey ba-buddy, give me your keys so I can stash this in your car real quick," Cas said as he ambled up to Dean with a fairly battered sticker-covered black guitar case swinging heavily in his left hand, the right held out towards Dean as he approached.

"Yea, of course," Dean muttered, gesturing with his head towards the record store where the faint twangs of a guitar tuning up could be heard. "I'll just go get us a spot for the show."

The punk smirked at that and saluted with the hand that was holding onto Dean's keys before traipsing towards the vehicle with his guitar held easily at his side and Dean watched the other man's progress long enough to see to see Cas pause to put his case on the lid of the trunk and pop it open before heading towards the squat venue.

Alright, Dean hadn't been expecting Cheapo's or Waterloo or any of the records stores he was familiar with, which let's face it those buildings had their fair share of chipping paint and haphazardly placed stickers as well so he was in no place to put them on a pedestal, but Dean was not prepared for what Trailer Space Records actually was like.

Maybe it was that the building was sorta packed for an early afternoon punk show, with people standing shoulder to shoulder at almost every single wooden shelving unit flipping through records with expressions varying from intense concentration to excited as they made finds for their own collections. Maybe it was that the walls were plain, cracked concrete, at least the parts that weren't covered in show posters that spanned decades and there was an unashamed corner dedicated solely to cassettes and 8-track tapes placed in haphazard stacks around a massive, battered stereo system that could play the outdated media. Maybe it was the smell of cut grass coming in through the open windows with box fans propped up in their frames to circulate the otherwise stagnant air.

It was refreshing, exciting, and fucking terrifying all at the same time and the feeling was so reminiscent to how he felt when he kissed Cas that he felt like he might need to sit down for a minute.

As it was there wasn't really much room to move around, let alone sit, so Dean settled for leaning against an empty bit of wall next to a bin of records about halfway near the front and just taking a moment to himself to take it all in. He was pretty sure if his mom you see the the rumpled state of most of the patrons in the store she would roll her eyes and go after them with an iron, but it made Dean feel less self conscious about how he was dressed since t-shirts and shorts seemed to be the outfit of choice by a majority of the crowd; even if they tended towards the sinfully tight fit and all over black that Cas seemed to prefer.

There was a small space cleared neared the front of the store (one that couldn't really be called a stage because the only thing distinguishing it from the rest of the scuffed floor was an abused looking oriental rug) but there were three guys up there with guitars talking to a fourth guy sitting behind a drum set and everyone was gravitating in that direction so Dean just tried his best to not be jostled out of his little nook so that Cas would still be able to see him once the punk finally came in. Whatever was going on with the other man, he was hoping if he just acted like normal himself then maybe everything would sort itself out.

Dean just focused on not creepily staring at the door to the record shop until Cas came in and compromised by giving into the urge he was feeling in his twitching fingers to dive into the nearest record bin. Which was probably why he jumped, startled by the feedback from the screeching feedback from the amps, when they finally kicked to life louder than he had expected in the small space.

"Hey everyone," one of the lankier guys up on the 'stage' said, pushing his own crooked glasses up the bridge of his nose with the two fingers that were holding his guitar pick. "Thanks for waking up balls early to come see us today. None of this would be possible without Matty from Toxic Pop so if you have any complaints about your service today, he's the guy in plaid by the register with Trina. We're The Capitalist Kids from Austin, Texas and this is a song about alternate modes of transportation."

And just like that they were playing, loud and fast, and Dean had to force himself not to cringe away and cover his ears because even though he had been to his fair share of concerts, none of them had ever started like _that._

That wasn't to say that it was bad or anything, because they weren't. The big, balding guy playing bass was shredding in a way that would make Kim Deal proud and the guy playing the drums was fucking killing it. The lyrics were snotty and articulate and, if he was being honest with himself, way more than Dean had been expecting from a punk band based on some of the 7"s Cas had picked out for him from Cheapos .

So it wasn't exactly hard to get caught up in the press of bodies inching their way forward to where a group was bouncing up and down near the front; not moshing, but just kinda...jostle-dancing, which was tame by comparison to some of the stuff that Dean _had_ seen at shows.

He hadn't realized just how long the band had been playing until they announced their last song ("Thanks guys, up next is Dead Mechanical, but we'll leave you with a bop.") and even then it still took him a couple of minutes to worm his way out of the mesh of people who had shoved themselves into the building; looking for Cas even as he grinned over the lyrics to the song playing behind him.

" _If you look at gender as an average of a set, regrettably you're often gonna wind up upset. 'Cause sexuality's a spectrum, there are so many shades. Not everybody fits your little black and white cage."_

By the time he reached the shop's entrance where he could actually feel a gust of the breeze blowing outside on his face, Dean was humming along to the chorus under his breath. He could kinda start to get behind punk rock more if this was the kind of music he and Cas went to see.

"Run and tell your pop and we can do the gender binary bop," Dean muttered as he nodded past the girl and guy watching the band play from behind the register, smiling dumbly over the fact that he could even be surprised over the things Cas liked anymore.

The smile stayed plastered on when he walked outside, even though as soon as he spotted his wayward whatever-they-were it felt like his heart just about shriveled up inside of his chest. Because it was no wonder that he had still been waiting on Cas to sneak up behind him or something while the bands were playing and what he saw might even explain why the punk had been acting so weird all morning.

Cas had never even left the Impala, though his guitar was probably in the trunk since Dean couldn't readily spot it anywhere else around the other man, but the other man didn't look the least bit bothered by the fact that he was missing bands that _he_ had wanted to see in the first place. The other man's lanky arm was draped lazily over the shoulders of a girl who was leaning beside him against the side of Dean's car, her own hand that wasn't wrapped around Cas's waist covering the punk's possessively and neither of them noticed as he reluctantly made his way in their direction.

To be fair, Dean wasn't exactly calling out to the pair as he slunk his way towards them; smile so big and fake it made his jaw ache from forcefully keeping it in place. He even bumped into a short African-American girl in a tank top and a pair of high waisted shorts on his way over and he was pretty sure he apologized, but his focused remained on Cas and the girl he was with. And he was way too busy to bother with greetings anyway because he was trying to figure out if the girl was another one of Cas's ex-roommates, just an ex, or maybe a friend. Dean stomach clenched painfully at the thought that maybe her and Cas were _friends_ , like in the same way that he and Cas were friends…

Cas finally looked up from where he had his head leaned in close to the girl's and the pair had been so caught up in looking at each other as they spoke that it took the punk a whole second to register the fact that it was Dean walking towards them or at least that's how it looked to his traitorous mind. He tried to ignore the way the Cas's eyes flitted over his approaching form quickly before the punk's brilliant grin that had been directed at the girl dimmed a bit and he turned back to whisper something into the girl's ear. He also decided that he was not going to let the fact that neither the girl nor Cas made a move away from each other bother him, not even when he stopped in front of them and shoved his sweaty hands into the pockets of his shorts.

"Hey, Cas," Dean said, hoping his voice sounded normal even though inside he was screaming. "You're missing the band you wanted to see, they're pretty awesome."

"Yea, Crash these guys are great," the girl under Cas's arm readily agreed, nodding her head furiously enough that it caused the strands of her brown bob to come untucked from where it had been delicately swept behind her ears that were sporting several pairs of dangling earrings each. "I saw them when they came to Gilman last. They slept on Amir's floor."

Cas let out a snort before dipping his free hand into his pocket and pulling out his cigarettes, lipping one out of the package and lighting it before replying. "Course they would. That still going between you two?"

"Not, not going," the girl said her expression turning sad for a second before she shook her head and let go of Cas's hand long enough to slap the punk playfully on the chest and then extending the same hand out towards Dean. "And Cas, you left home and lost your manners apparently. I'm Han, by the way. You must be Dean."

"Yea, that's me," Dean muttered, licking his lips nervously as he returned the handshake as quickly as possible before shoving his hand back into his pocket and rocking back onto his heels. "So uh, Han? That short for Hannah or something?"

"Hmmm," the brunette replied with a smirk before she extricated herself from Castiel's embrace and stepped into Dean's space, looking up at him from under her eyelashes and she tucked her hair back behind her ear. "It's short for Han, but you if you need more feel free to tack on Solo. Crash, Imma head inside. Dinner? Later? You've got my number now, call me whenever."

"Sure thing, babe," Cas said, flicking the ash off his cigarette and smirking when Han blew him a kiss; winking at Dean for good measure before she flounced away from the two men in her dirty, used-to-be-white Keds and short floral skater dress.

Dean tore his jealous gaze off the other girl and returned it to Cas who was taking a deep drag off his cigarette as he stretched his arms out in front of him. The muscles in his arms were revealed by the sleeves of his shirt being cut off and they bunched and relaxed under the skin; just to add insult to the rest of the mishmash of feelings that were raging inside of him, Dean still had the urge to lick the fine sheen of sweat that had formed off the other man's skin.

"I grew up with Han," Cas declared, as he exhaled the smoke from his cigarette and took a step closer to Dean. "We used to go to all the shows and stuff together. The first band I was ever in, Han was in it with me."

"Oh that's cool," Dean said, even though he wanted to snap that if he had wanted to know then he would've asked. But he doubted that Cas had told the other girl about their...history? No. Arrangement, that was a better word. So he was trying not to hold her familiar behavior with the punk against her. "Guess I'll just let you go with her after this then, since you have dinner plans. And we can meet up for the show at Beerland if you still want to...I mean, I don't want to intrude or anything-"

"Come on baby, its not lik-" Cas started, running a hand through his hair before he cut himself off and let out a heavy sigh. "Dean, of course you can come if us if you want. You won't be intruding on anything, I promise. Han, is just an old friend."

Maybe it was Cas finally dropping an endearment that made Dean crack, because the punk hadn't given him anything since that morning and he was pretty fucking sure he had blown all the progress he had made towards starting a relationship with the other man to miniscule fucking pieces. So really, he was starting to feel a little bit like being in love with Cas was a pointless endeavor and it fucking hurt, okay?

"And I guess I'm just an old friend too, now. Huh, Cas?" Dean asked, clenching his hands into fists in his pockets so that he wouldn't just pull the other man in and smash their lips together. "Maybe if I give you some space then you might start to think I'm worth your fucking time again. Just...go with Han. I'll see you at the show later, maybe."

"Dean, what?" Cas stuttered, dropping his cigarette on the ground so that he could reach out to try to catch the younger man as he sidestepped past the punk and made a beeline for the driver's side of his car. "Just, fuck. Stay, okay! Don't leave, I'll go if you don't want to be around me, but shit. I don't know what you want from me, Dean."

"Just...just...be normal," Dean spat out, stopping with his hand on the door handle because he had just remembered that Cas still had his keys, but he'd be damned if he was going to let that sway him now that he could confront the punk about how standoffish he had been all day. "Be like how you always are! Kiss me, touch me, call me a dumb pet name. I don't know what I did, but just...stop acting like I have fucking rabies or something."

The look on the punk's face was pained, sort of like it had been in the car when Dean had been holding the other man's hand and that was enough of clue about how Cas really felt about their current lack of boundaries that Dean had to swallow hard before he spoke again so that the punk wouldn't hear the heartbreak in his voice.

"Unless you don't want to," Dean said quickly, forcing himself to shrug because surely nonchalance had to hurt less than what he was currently feeling. "Which is cool, dude. Just tell me...it would have been nice to _not_ make an ass out of myself in public, y'know?"

Cas was staring at the ground hard, his mouth set in a firm line as his fingers twisted at a loose thread that was sticking out from a hole in the leg of his shorts. But when he looked up at Dean his eyes were soft, pleading almost and slowly, so fucking slowly that Dean wasn't even completely sure that _he_ wasn't the one that moved towards Cas, the punk stepped forward and wrapped his tattooed arms around Dean; tucking the younger man's face into the crook of his neck and pressing his face into Dean's dirty blonde hair.

Dean huffed out a shaky breath against the other man's neck, which of course meant that when he inhaled he got hit with the full force of the smell of Cas's tangy sweat overlaid with the scent of his own eucalyptus scented Lush body wash that Sam always made fun of him for buying, but it was okay. It was kinda just what he needed because this was probably going to be the one and only time he would get this glimpse of domesticity with Cas so he would take what he could get.

Story of his fucking life.

"If you think you aren't important to me," Cas murmured into Dean's hair, rubbing firm circles into Dean's spine. "Then you're a fucking moron."

Dean tried to think of something to say as he blinked back his tears, because goddammit here he was being a fucking jealous baby and Cas was still reassuring him. Maybe he was just freaking out over nothing, hell he had some days where he didn't want to be touched so it wouldn't be completely unheard off that Cas was just having a standoffish day. They were still good and maybe he hadn't completely fucked up the potential for a relationship with the other man by being a complete brat.

"You're my best friend, Dean," Cas continued, unaware of the hope that had started building in Dean's chest as he worked up the courage to maybe tell the other man that Cas was important to him too. It was accident that the simple statement had the exact opposite effect that it was intended to have, effectively crushing that burgeoning hope back down into nothing.

* * *

Roughly seven three minute punk songs earlier…

Cas's fingers flitted over the frets of his dark turquoise colored Fender Stratocaster, reminiscing about his fourteen year old self picking out the prettiest guitar in the shop and promising his mom that he would find a way to pay her back. Even back before she had died he had been interested in music, only turning to punk when the blues wasn't enough to contain how angry he was at the world for taking away his parent. It was ironic that the model was now one of the cheapest that Fender sold, but the fact that it was the Deluxe Lone Star edition was probably a joke his mother and Daphne had coordinated from the grave just to fuck with his head.

After leaving Denver the guitar had moved around with him for a while, a few of the stickers being baggage claim tags that had been slapped onto the hard sided case when he had checked bags at the airport, but eventually the weight of carrying around all those memories that he was trying to escape from had gotten to be too much and it had been easier than most people would've thought to leave it behind when he left Baltimore for Boston. When asked, he just said it was too hard to hitchhike with a guitar taking up your free hand.

Before well...everything the instrument might as well had been permanently attached to his hand; whether he was playing a show or just dicking around while Daphne fiddled with her latest video editing project, there was always a song running through his head and having a guitar nearby had just made it easier to to clear his mind sometimes. After, he could barely stand to look at it, but now since meeting Dean the music was clamoring around inside of him again and he wanted nothing more than to share that with the other man because he thought he would understand.

Hearing Dean so adamantly defend their friendship and lack, yes total lack of interest in being anything else hadn't been what he was expecting when he first woke up that morning, especially with how well it had felt like things were going between them the night before, but if that what the other man wanted he would respect that. It might mean a few more embarrassing late night run ins with Charlie when he was jerking off in the one communal bathroom at Dean's house, but if he got to continue to sleeping in the same bed with the other man so he could just pretend well then he could deal with concealing a few awkward boners.

Cas had done the whole friends with benefits thing before, more than once, and he couldn't help but be disappointed that Dean didn't feel the same yearning need to have them be something more that Cas did(despite the other man's insistence that friendly benefits were something he _did not_ do). It was like a constant ache under his skin when he wasn't around Dean and he had spent the last week working himself to the bone while counting down the days until he could see the other man again. When Dor had picked him up from work the night before, telling him that Dean had been moping all week, Cas had thought that maybe that meant something, but apparently he was wrong.

Snapping the case shut with a resigned sigh, Cas made swift work of stowing it away in Dean's trunk and turned to make his way inside to the other man who was probably starting to wonder where he was. Maybe if he asked first Dean would let him put his around around his waist or something...FUCK! He had never been unsure of himself when it came to touching or showing affection, it was just the way he was with people he liked, but now that he knew where he stood with Dean he wasn't sure that such a casual display would be welcome and it sucked because if he had his way then Cas would _never_ stop touching and kissing Dean; telling him he was gorgeous or funny because he just fucking was, alright?

He had turned to start making his way towards the venue, his fingers itching nervously for a cigarette to calm his nerves, when he heard a voice call out to him.

"Castiel?" the voice said, causing Cas to spin towards the pizza shop next to Trailer Space where it had come from; squinting his eyes to see into the shaded area where the restaurant had their tables set up.. "Do my eyes deceive me or is that Crash Adler!?"

"Jesus, Han Johnson," Castiel replied as his old friend made their way over to him, opening his arms wide to catch the smaller person as they threw practically threw themselves at him. "Holy fucking shit! What in the world are you doing in Texas?"

"My new band is playing at the Parish on Saturday," Han replied taking a step back and letting their hands drop to fidget with the long strap of their brown purse. "You should really come, so that we can catch up!"

"Dean and I are actually going to a show at Valhalla that night, but if you're going to be in town for a few days then we should get coffee or something," Cas explained, pulling out his phone so that he could get Han's phone number which was bound to be different that the last time he had seen them when he had left California for Denver over five years before."I've only been here for about a month, but I'm sure Dean knows a good place where we can go to catch up."

"Ooooh, Deee-aaan," Han crowed with a knowing glint in their eyes and Cas felt his heart plummet. They had been the first to know how he had felt about Daphne too and the first he had told that he was following her to Denver so he knew that his friend knew his history with falling hard when he did actually fall. "At least tell me you were already dating this one before you moved to a different state for them."

"I didn't move for him just...c'here," Cas mumbled, glancing over Han's shoulder towards Trailer Space before grabbing her hand and tugging her over to the Impala.

"Sweet ride," Han said with a low whistle, running their hand reverently over the rear headlights before they turned around and propped themselves up against the side. "What is this a '67 Chevy? Does it have the original motor?"

"How the fuck should I know?" Cas replied with a shrug, settling in beside Han on the warm metal and slinging an arm over their shoulder so he could reel them in close and maybe give them some semblance of privacy. "Cars and shit, that was always more your thing than mine."

"I know," Han replied with a smug smirk, looped their own hand around his waist in order to be more comfortable. "Anyway tell me about this Dean."

Castiel groaned softly and leaned over to rest his forehead on Han's shoulder, earning a chuckle from them as they reached up and patted at his hair with their free hand before moving to hold Cas's that was draped on their shoulder.

"Ohh, that bad, huh?" Han asked in a knowing sort of voice before they sighed themselves. "I can understand that."

"I'm pretty sure I'm in love with him," Cas admitted for the first time out loud, he hadn't even told his brother and he sure as hell hadn't told Dor because he was scared she would go and tell the other man since the two hand been friends longer.

"Well that's great!" Han said encouragingly, giving his hand and his waist a simultaneous little squeeze. "No, really it is. After everything with Daph and you dropping off the face of the earth, I thought you were just going to fuck your way through all fifty states. Seriously, every time we toured I heard stories about you and the dearth of satisfied naughty bits you left in your wake, if you had showed signs of life on Facebook I would've virtually high-fived you."

"I'm on Facebook again," the punk mumbled, feeling more dejected about his current Dean situation than any embarrassment over drowning his feelings in sex and alcohol the last could of years.

"That's besides the point," Han continued, ducking their head so that they could meet Cas's eyes. "What I'm trying to say is its good that you're moving on. What happened with Daphne was tragic yes, but you dealt with it in that way you do and now you can move on and let yourself be happy again. That's what she would want."

"Yea, I guess," Cas replied, trying not to think about how miserable and desperate Daphne had started to feel right before that last party, ever since she had lost her job at the coffeehouse. "Its just...I don't think he feels the same."

"Well have you asked?" Han questioned, their voice not betraying the "dummy" that Cas was pretty sure his friend wanted to tack on there.

"No," the punk answered petulantly, like he could just go and _ask_ Dean if he liked him; that was probably the quickest way to fuck up what he had already.

"Well you should probably do that," Han said with an amused lilt to their voice and Cas just shut his eyes and nodded because he had to otherwise Han would never let it go. He never should have brought it up in the first place. "Also there's a tall hunk of bowlegged cuteness walking this way, so look alive sailor."

"What?" Castiel asked, snapping his head up to see that sure enough Dean was shuffling his way across the parking lot and street towards them; a grimacing smile on his face as he avoided the crowd of people assembled talking in front of the building.

He couldn't help the goofy smile that lit up his face when he saw Dean mutter an apology to a girl that he bumped into on his way over and Han didn't miss it because they let out a muted cooing noise beside him that drew his attention back to them.

"God, just stop it," Cas muttered, ducking his head again so that he could try to fight away the blush that was suddenly burning hot on the back of his neck. "Act cool, Han. Don't embarrass me. Oh! And don't you dare tell him the story about the speedo and the chili dogs."

"I would never," Han replied in a mock affronted voice, but Cas just went ahead and vowed that he wouldn't leave them alone with Dean for more than a minute if he could help it.

He looked up again as Dean got closer and allowed himself an indulgent moment to just look at how effortlessly handsome and graceful Dean was, remembering for a few long seconds how perfectly their bodies fit together even in sleep before he had a brief but violently clear flashback to the other man saying how he and Cas were just friends and that's how they both wanted it. God, the last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt Dean.

He ducked his head down as his stomach lurched in distress and managed to mutter into Han's ear, "I can't tell him right now, Han. I just can't."

Instead of offering a platitude or words of comfort, Han just squeezed their hand tighter around Castiel's waist as Dean came to a stuttering stop in front of them.

"Hey, Cas," Dean started, looking up at the punk from underneath his eyelashes; green eyes flashing in the bright morning sunlight and freckles standing out in sharp relief across the bridge of his nose and cheekbones.

Cas, sucked in a breath and told himself to just be cool because yea, he was totally fucking fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! And update finally! Sorry, its been so long coming guys, I've been really busy with school and starting and second job and what-have-you, so it goes. As always, comments are very very appreciated or feel free to come and visit me over on my tumblr (itspronounceddeathsteel). The updated playlist for this fic will be posted over there in a couple of days, so if you're interested in that...!!!


	15. chaos theory: phase two (experimental uranium fueled smoke detectors honestly just sound like an accident waiting to happen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I make mistakes like the next man. In fact being -forgive me- rather cleverer than most men, my mistakes tend to be correspondingly huger." -- Albus Dumbledore, _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_

If you were to ask Dean the names of other bands that played at Trailer Space Records that afternoon, he might be able to tell you that one of them was Dead Something-or-Other and the other one sang songs about birds. Maybe..whatever.

He could however, describe in precise, minute, _graphic_ detail how many times Cas put his hand on the small of Han's back when the punk leaned into whisper something in his long lost pal's ear. Or how many times Han looked up under her lashes at Cas or threw her head back to laugh at something the other man said. The fact that the punk laughed more easily with Han than he had all morning with Dean, meant nothing.

Really.

Alright, that was a huge lie.

The thing was, before meeting a certain blue-eyed punk, jealousy had never really been a thing that Dean had ever had to deal with before because in high school there hadn't been anyone that he'd had more than a fleeting interest in. And those guys were the rare transfer student who hadn't had a chance to assimilate to Lawrence High's culture of mild homophobia that prompted all the other dudes in the locker room to eye Dean warily when they changed clothes; covering their junk like they had anything that Dean couldn't see when he looked down in the shower.

Boyfriends and relationships had never really been a thing either. So despite that fact that he had heard Charlie get all snarling and grumpy when a patron at Red7 got a little too friendly with her girlfriend, Dean's had no other point of reference for the acidic, gnawing, possessiveness was making his stomach churn and his eyes burn with unspent frustration.

Cas was the only common factor that Dean had been able to determine for why he kept feeling like such utter crap and honestly, he was sort of tired of the emotional rollercoaster he couldn't seem to get off of with the other man. Maybe Han's appearance would be the swift kick in the ass that Dean needed to finally get off the wild ride that was Castiel fucking Adler.

And maybe the fact that Cas could just as easily disembark from the kiddie ride that Dean so obviously was by comparison bummed him out just a little bit. Okay, more than a little bit. It was really sort of depressing.

Maybe that connection he had felt with the other man over the past few weeks had just been an act or maybe Cas was just naturally charming and appealing to everyone. Either way the warring emotions of jealousy, sadness, and self-loathing were proving to be more than enough to distract Dean from jostling bodies packed into the record store around him and from the blaring power chords pouring from the mismatched amplifiers at the front of the room.

When the last band announced their final song, Han started motioning excitedly towards the front of the shop, tugging on the front of Cas's shirt and screaming something that Dean couldn't ever hope to hear over the general din that had taken over the record shop/venue. The punk just rolled his eyes at the other woman's antics, shrugging his shoulders before beginning to follow her towards the front of the room and the slowly congealing bounce pit.

Cas might have spared a glance over his shoulder at Dean, might have even offered him a harassed looking smirk, like Han being an over-enthusiastic puppy was the bane of his existence. But Dean was too busy texting Charlie about how wrong she had been that morning when she had told him she thought Cas liked him back. He might have added that he felt a total moron for almost believing her, but then he deleted that part and shoved his phone as deep into the pocket of his shorts as he could manage.

She didn't need to know how close he had been to telling Cas he _like-liked_ the other man, Char would be sure to tease him for the next decade over how juvenile that sounded.

But god, Cas made every stupid crush Dean had ever had on a celebrity or one of the asshole jocks at school feel more attainable than all the hopes he had had of getting even ounce of sincere, genuine affection out of the other man.

It made him feel small and stupid and gullible as fuck for falling for the charming, troubadour bad-boy schtick that so many before him had probably fallen for only half as fast as Dean had.

Watching Han and Cas bounce, bump, and jostle their way through the last song just drove the painful truth home with every thumping bass note and power chord. Dean could let Cas go, no problem.

Really. He _could,_ jeez.

By the time the song had ended Han had jumped up to piggyback onto Cas's back and the pair were fist pumping along with at least half of the crowded mass surrounding them, singing the lyrics to a song Dean was only hearing for the first time.

The fact that the pair obviously had a history together, one that Dean couldn't hope to complete with, was like rubbing salt into an open wound, covering the salt with a mixture of vinegar and lime juice, and then trying to pretend like it didn't sting like a motherfucker.

Dean was too busy enviously watching Han smother her peals of laughter in Cas's thick, dark hair to notice when two bodies stepped in close beside him, the terrifyingly familiar giggle being the thing that finally drew his attention to the fact that Gabriel and Sam had decided to turn up to the show.

"Oh my god, Samson!" Gabriel wailed, yanking on the edge of the flannel overshirt that the taller man was wearing over a deep white v-neck shirt. "It's my sib from another crib! Hanna Barbera!"

Dean raised a questioning eyebrow at Sam, mostly over his sickeningly sweet new pet name because if he picked on the other man over how quickly he had gotten cozy with the elder Alder then maybe it wouldn't be so obvious that he was having such a shit day.

Which wasn't exactly made any better when a shrill voice sounded over the slowly dispersing crowd that was left in the record store.

"Yo Gabba Gabba!" Han shouted, directly into Cas's ear if the way the other man winced was any indication, gesturing wildly towards where Gabriel was practically vibrating with excitement at Sam's side. "Take me to my Gabba, Casanova!"

It was probably physically impossible for Dean to roll his eyes any harder, but he was sure as hell gonna try.

"It's just Gabe, Han. Calm the fuck down," Cas grumbled, all but dropping Han next to his older brother before he made his way over towards Dean; rubbing his back with a sheepish grin on his face. "I guess I'm getting too old to be carting people around."

"Whatever, I'm super light," Han said dismissively, flicking her hand in Cas's direction before a sly smirk seemed to settle on her face as she addressed Gabriel who was patting down the flyaways in the girl's wavy hair. "Maybe you just slept badly. I've heard that sleeping with another person can really help you pound out those sore muscles. Right, Gabba?"

" _And you should be the person sleeping with him, I'm sure,"_ Dean thought spitefully, crossing his arms tightly over his chest when Cas stepped in close beside him.

Even though he would've have gladly given away some of the more precious pieces of his comic book collection just to have Cas touch him earlier, now he wasn't sure that he wouldn't completely lose what little cool he had if Cas so much as looked at him for more than minute.

"Yea, Samsquatch and I sleeping together sure helped him work out his kinks," Gabriel replied, winking at Han as he said it; the pair unaware of Dean's inner turmoil. "Also, Han! I have a boyfriend! Han this is my Samsonite, my Samtown, my one and only Moose. Sam this is Han, the secret affair-child my father _should_ have had."

"I've heard a lot about you," Sam said, shaking the dainty hand that the girl offered to him before looping an arm around Gabe's shoulders. "Are you in town for the festival?"

"Yep, my band's playing at the Parish on Saturday," Han confirmed, tucking her hair behind her ear, the innocent gesture was one that Dean was pretty sure he would hate forever now.

Sam narrowed his eyes for a second before he pointed a finger at Han, "That's the feminist collective thing, right?"

"Yea, yea!" Gabe agreed bouncing on his toes as he spoke. "Meg's been talking about it all week, the FAP group she's in organized the whole thing."

"Fap?" Castiel asked, snorted really, nudging his elbow lightly into Dean's side which just had the effect of making Dean flinch hard because of how tightly he was trying to hold himself together when Cas was standing right. fucking. there.

The punk gave him a look, which Dean was about to label concerned before Cas turned back to the rest of the group with, one hand extended placatingly out in front of him while the other made a vague half-hearted jerk off motion. "Okay, even I can admit that was gross, but c'mon! Someone has to pick up the slack for Gabe."

"Yea, what is up with that?" Han said, punching Gabriel lightly in the shoulder or it least it looked like a soft punch to Dean, but the older man winced and let out a pained mewl so maybe the other girl was just hella tough or something. "We've been talking for almost five whole minutes and you've hardly made one innuendo. Is this growth or did you finally find a good guy who could rub some manners off on you?"

Gabe got a sly smirk on his face and leaned heavily into Sam's side causing the taller man to let out a chuckle that sounded both pained and fond and made that jealous voice in the back of Dean's head pipe up, saying that he would never have someone who made him sound like that. Especially not Cas.

"You realize he's just saving all these up for later, right?" Sam asked Han who just smiled wide and mischievously as she nodded enthusiastically. It was the most charming fucking thing Dean had ever seen.

"I kinda just wanna see how long he can go he just explodes like a volcano of filth, y'know?" Han continued, seemingly amused by the fact that Gabriel's mustache was twitching from the effort of not responding to the obvious double entendres that the other girl was laying on thick. She then clapped her hands together briskly before addressing the group of men assembled before her, "Anyway, where can a body get a good taco around here?"

"Oh my god," Gabriel gushed, reaching out to grab Han's wrist before he began tugging her towards the door. "My all-time favorite food truck is literally ten minutes away."

"Yea," Sam said, winking in Dean and Cas's direction as he began following their chattering forms towards the door. "It's one of the few things I've heard Gabe describe as 'mind-blowing'."

Gabriel's retort was lost as they trio walked out the door and Dean felt himself relax a bit as Han left the record store, breathing out a sigh of relief. At least now he could have a bit of a break from having to sit front row at the Cas and Han Reunion Tour.

At least that's what he had been thinking before he noticed that Cas was heading after the rest of their ramshackle group like the other man had every intention of ditching the admittedly loose plans that he and Dean had spent the better part of the last week making together via text.

"You coming, dollface?" Cas asked, his expression fond even though his tone was quietly cautious.

The miniscule part of Dean that was confident and cool wanted to say that there was hopeful optimism lacing the other man's voice, but the petulant, possessive, pragmatic part of him that apparently was not very good at sharing told him that Cas was still freaked out by Dean's minor meltdown in the parking lot earlier and was indulging him with the endearment.

Dean blew out a sigh and tried to plaster an unaffected grin on his face. It made his stomach and his chest hurt as well as his face, but when Cas grinned back widely at him like he didn't know that Dena's heart was breaking that kinda made the lie worth it. Maybe Cas would never know about this pathetic crush and Dean would get over the heartbreak so he could at least be friends with the other man.

"Yea," Dean agreed, taking a few hesitant steps towards the the punk; keeping himself just out of reach so that Cas couldn't reel him in by his belt loops and kiss him stupid or something. He needed to keep his wits about him from now on or he was just going to stay trapped in this cycle of getting too close and then getting hurt. "But uh...after lunch? I mean, _we_ made plans."

"Of course, Dean," Cas replied, his voice soft and understanding, shifting his weight closer to Dean so he could put his hand on the other man's cheek; a comforting gesture...that's all it was, not intimate. Not at all. Definitely not something that made Dean's breath hitch and his mouth suddenly go dry. "We'll get some tacos or whatever and then we'll just hang out for a bit. Just you and me."

It wasn't hard to fake the smile that followed and Dean found himself enjoying the roughness of Castiel's fingertips against his skin. The scratch of calluses that probably came from playing strumming a guitar catching on his bottom lip for just a second before a sudden movement behind Cas drew Dean's attention and made him realize that he had listed towards the other man without realizing it.

Han's head and shoulders had poked around the open doorframe of the record shop; the sunlight flowing in behind her made her soft brown curls look like a halo around her face.

Dean's only thought was, _'Of course it fucking did.'_

"Guys, taaaccooos!" Han whined dramatically, letting out a gasp of delight followed by an excited little hop that brought the rest of her body in to fill up the doorframe. "Oh my deity, Deee-aaan! I just had the best thought. Can I drive your car?!"

* * *

Dean had heard of Chi'lantro before, well mostly overheard of it before.

The Korean-inspired taco bar was kind of a big deal amongst the foodies at BookPeople; Alfie was always quick to recommend the place to tourists who asked him for a lunch recommendation, Ruby would crack a genuine grin at anyone who brought her one of their homemade dills, and Lisa had been known to shamelessly bribe her son with the bistro's K-Pops anytime if the kid would just quietly behave in the Book People cafe until his mom got off work.

So the problem wasn't that Dean didn't know that this veritable nirvana of spicy-deliciousness (Gabe's words) existed, it was that he wasn't much for going out to eat by himself. And also sue him, but after hearing his coworkers rave about the place, Dean had really been sorta kinda looking forward to taking someone special there.

Which he could still technically do since Gabriel had led their merry band of who-its to the Chi'lantro food truck that apparently lurked most days on the corner of Navasota and Concho streets.

The truck was tucked in next to a residential cul-de-sac, an elementary school, and Huston-Tillotson University; a move that was probably based more on business acumen since private school kids generally had more walking around money than their UT counterparts, but Dean liked to believe that it was because the owners of Chi'lantro new that the oft overlooked campus deserved their own 'thing' since UT got every other trendy bistro and food truck parked practically on their doorstep.

Like most of the food trucks that haunted the sprawling eclectic neighborhoods of Austin, Chi'lanto was outfitted with eye-catching paint (a sherbet-y orange and lime green that were the restaurant's signature colors) and a sound system that was playing hooky, but indecipherable Korena alt-rock. It also boasted a collection of mismatched folding tables and chairs spread on in the open space in front of the truck's order window; a few of which Cas and Sam clustered together in order to create a semi-private dining experience for their little group.

Somehow Dean had ended up stuck straddling one of the metal feet of a scratched three-legged card table, with Sam on his left and the open end of the table on his right. Gabriel was on Sam's other side and Han and Cas were seated across of them, jostling into each other with familiar elbows and muttered curses when they first sat down and were jockeying for the seat directly in front of Dean. Cas won out, but Dean didn't miss the smug grin on Han's face when the punk realized that he has ended up with a precariously wobbling chair.

It was just barely one o'clock by the time the uneven quintet had all ordered their respective lunches and settled down with their chilled cans of soda to wait until their names got called to collect their food. Dean's breakfast was still sitting heavily in his stomach, accompanied by a queasy nausea that burned at the back of this throat; though he wasn't entirely convinced that the feeling wasn't being caused by the mile-a-minute banter that Cas and Han had kept up the entire ten minute drive over from the record shop. They had even been separated since Dean had reluctantly agreed to let Han drive the Impala over from the record shop as long as he supervised from the passenger seat but that hadn't slowed their sprint down memory lane one bit.

And now that they had met up again with Sam and Gabe the elder Adler was joining in, bringing up even older memories of his younger brother and Han as bathtub sharing toddlers...because of course they had all grown up together. Because life was fair like that.

"I know Mamieo has a picture of you two eating soap or something, you both used to be so cute. And you got away with everything." Gabriel reminisced with a warm smile in Han's direction.

"Well I can't get away with anything now." Han said, scooting over to elbow Cas in the ribs even as she threw a wink in Dean's direction. "I guess puberty fucked us up good, right Cas?"

Dean wasn't sure if Han was fishing for compliments or what, even living with Charlie and sorta half-living with Dor hadn't taught him when he was supposed to chime in with an 'Of course, you're pretty!'. He didn't think this was one of those times, but even if it were he wasn't sure that he wanted to compliment Han when the other woman was already getting all of Cas's hard-earned smiles every time she opened her friggin' mouth.

Alright, the whole jealousy thing was going to take some time, okay?

"I don't know I think we came out the other side of it alright," Cas replied, clutching at his side where Han had elbowed him before craning his neck to look towards the food truck. "I'm gonna go see if our foods ready. Dean, you wanna help me carry it?"

"I'll help," Sam offered before Dean could reply, stretching his arms over his head as he hefted himself out of his seat. "I wanted to get extra sauce for my tacos anyway. You need anything, babe?"

This last bit was directed at Gabriel of course, but everyone at the table was subjected to the pair sharing a lingering close-mouthed kiss before Sam straightened and tilted his head in the direction of the parked truck and raised an eyebrow at Cas. The punk hesitated for a second, his eyes darting between Han and Dean quickly even as he took an aborted half-step in the latter's direction. In the end the clenching anticipation from the silent exchange was ended when the other man just sighed and moved to fall into step with Sam who was already starting towards the truck.

The looks and the hesitance were things that Dean didn't miss, he did miss however the look that Han gave Gabriel as while he was busy watching Cas walk away and trying miserably not to pine.

He also missed Han mouthing, 'They are so cute!' to the older man and Gabe miming vomiting in return.

"Soooo," Han said, drawing Dean's attention back down to the end of the table where she and Gabriel were both wearing matching mischievous grins. "What didja think of the show today, Dean?"

"'S good," Dean replied with a noncommittal shrug, fiddling with the tab on his can of Sprite just so he could have something to do with his hands. "Different than what I expected. I've only been to SXSW so...yea."

"Really?" Han said, cocking her head innocently. "Cas must not have _prepped_ you enough for the whole thing."

A choking snort followed by furious coughing drew both Han and Dean's attention to Gabriel who was sputtering into his own can of Coke Zero.

"Jesus Christ, Han," the older man managed to choke out, his face turning a blotchy red as Han burst into uncontrollable giggles. "Go on, laugh it up. Maybe we should ask Casanova how well you _prepped_ before you gave him the ol' what for?"

"What's what for?" Sam asked striding up to the table with his arms laden with food, allowing Han to snatch her paper tray of tofu tacos out of his hand before he carefully laid out the garlic fries he and Gabe were sharing along with his own burger and the older man's spicy chicken tacos.

"Oh nothing, just reminding Han that it's their fault that my little brother knew what pegging was before I did," Gabriel said with a wounded glance at the other girl before he sighed dramatically and shoved a garlic fry in his mouth. "It was _so_ traumatizing."

Dean felt a little traumatized himself, especially when the man in question sidled up and set a pork bulgogi quesadilla the size of a hand down in front of Dean all the while smiling brightly and unawares that every single suspicion that Dean had tried to ignore had just been confirmed.

"What'd I miss?" Cas asked the assembled group, plopping down in his seat and licking a bit of the magic sauce from his kimchi fries off of the side of his thumb.

Dean tried to just ignore the question, staring hard at his hands as they picked at the edges of his tortillas, and he really hoped that he wasn't blushing or tearing up or something equally embarrassing. It wasn't like he had never had sex before Cas, this shouldn't be a thing. Why was this a thing?

He heard a throat being cleared at the table, but couldn't tell who it belonged to.

"Fuck, Han," Cas began and Dean felt more than saw the other man turn in the girl's direction, mostly because Cas's battered Converse knocked against his own under the table as he turned, but still. "You said you wouldn't tell the chili dog story."

"Cassie," Gabriel interjected, his voice light with amusement because any other person would be amused by all this. Dean figured he should pretend to be amused too, so he forced a smile on his face and looked up. "I don't know what you're into these days, but the stuff I used to walk in on you two doing in high school wasn't _that_ freaky."

The awkward pause lasted for a beat longer than your average run-of-the-mill painstakingly awkward pause or at least for Dean it did and that's probably why he ended up being the one who felt the overwhelming urge to end it.

"I'm sure he's learned to lock the door at least," Dean mumbled half-heartedly, ending the three-way stare off that Han, Cas and Gabe seemed to have become involved in as Sam munched surreptitiously on more than his fair share of his and his boyfriend's garlic fries. "...unlike some people.."

The trio turned towards him, Han with one eyebrow raised delicately and Gabriel with a confused expression; Cas looked kinda pale but Dean was trying very hard not to look at Cas anyway.

"I mean, how many times does a guy have to walk in on Sam strapped to the bed before you guys put in a security chain or something." Dean continued, bumping his shoulder into his roommate's so that he could get some support.

"Dude, one time," Sam argued, glancing at Gabe when the other man held up his hand with three fingers raised. "Okay, maybe more than once, but I warned you that time with the chaps, Dean. You have no one to blame but yourself for not clearing out."

"It was either listen to you and short-stack have sex or Charlie and Dor," Dean shrugged, trying to play the whole thing off as he picked up his food and forced himself to take a bite. "At least with you two I can turn on porn and just pretend that the guys in it are extra moan-y."

"You sir," Han said, pointing a finger in his direction with a sort of decisiveness that Dean would normally find amusing in anyone else. "Are a class fucking act."

Dean just shrugged again in reply, he wasn't a big enough person to thank Han for the compliment even though somewhere in South Dakota Dean he was sure his mother was cursing his bad manners.

The ramshackle quintet dug into their food, Han chattering with Gabriel about what her family was up to these days with Sam oohing and aahing over all the aspects of growing up in California that the younger man had never experienced in landlocked Kansas. And Dean ignored the fact that Cas's knee had moved to press steadily against his own, their skin too hot where it was touching but still he didn't move away from it.

"Y'know if you ever like, need a place to crash or hang out or something…" Cas's voice began quietly, drawing Dean's attention from where he was methodically shredding the edges of his quesadilla. The punk was playing with a plastic fork, dragging it through the sauce on his fries like a kid playing with finger paints. "I mean, only if you want. But uh, yea. You could just come over to like, my place too, anytime; even if I'm at work or whatever...when those two are fucking or being weird or whatever."

The rambling was usually more Dean's style than Cas's, which meant the punk had noticed the awkwardness of what his older brother had implied about the scope of Cas and Han's previous relationship and was feeling just as uncomfortable over the whole thing as Dean was. And for the record Dean was pretty damn uncomfortable.

"Thanks," Dean replied cautiously, wishing his breath didn't catch when his response garnered a small pleased smile from the punk. "But maybe you should consult your roommates before you go offering to make me a key or anything."

Castiel's smile faltered for a second, his fork wavering over his food before he stabbed it into the fries, leaving it there as he stretched his arm across the scratched tabletop to rest his hand on Dean's forearm.

"Hey..." the punk started softly, his eyes briefly flickering over to the rest of their party before settling back on Dean with a concerned, heart-twisting warmth. "Me and Han, that was like...we were-"

"You don't have to explain anything to me, Cas," Dean replied quickly, extricating his arm from the punk's hold so he could pick up his quesadilla with both hands. He could be nonchalant about all this, he could be the supportive friend or whatever. "Just...ask Meg before you go inviting me over. I don't want to wake up with her looming over me like a horror movie."

"Oh my god, Meg!" Gabriel screeched, causing Dean to flinch hard from the unexpected noise while Sam just continued calmly eating his burger unfazed; he was probably used to Gabe's theatrics by now. "Han! You have _got_ to meet Meg! It's like living with a young Maimeo, only y'know way more sacrilegious when she curses and she only smoke half a pack a day."

"Sound like an acquaintance I'd like to make," Han agreed readily around a mouth full of tacos, nudging Cas again before she continued."Gabba must remember how famously Maimeo and I get along."

"I remember her constantly yelling at you for stealing my clothes freshman year," Castiel said, jumping back on the nostalgia train like it hadn't been derailed only two minutes before by the most awkward silence ever. "But then you and Daph just switched all the time after she moved into Pedro so after that Mam had nothing else to bitch at you about. I'm sure she probably likes you more than me now, you talk to her more."

"I know!" the girl agreed with a smug smile. "I get all the perks of having a cool grandma and none of the fear that I'll disappoint her. You two get that all to yourselves."

Castiel made a face and muttered something no one else could hear while Gabriel just laughed like Han had just said the most uproariously funny thing ever. Dean figured it must be an inside joke from them all growing up together and tried not to picture how cute of a couple teenaged Cas and Han must have made together, sharing clothes and shit, until the trio moved on to more pressing topics.

"So how long are you in town for, Han?" Sam asked, voicing the question when it seemed like his boyfriend's giggles had finally subsided.

"Well we're playing at that feminist show on Saturday, but the band that we're touring with is playing that and another show Sunday night," Han explained wiping a hand across the back of her mouth before she continued. "After that we're going to Denton and then starting the circuit back home, so we're probably gonna leave here Monday morning."

"That means you're here for the whole weekend?! Yaass Monarch!" Gabe blurted, bouncing in his seat wildly enough that it jostled the tables and Dean's can of soda almost tipped off the edge before Cas managed to catch it. "Where are you guys staying? Is there a hot tub?"

"Dude, no," Han replied with a headshake and a laugh. "I know in high school Cas and I pretty exclusively toured the greater Southern California region which was impressive, I know-"

"Hey," the punk began in an affronted tone only to be silenced with a flapping hand from Han.

"Anyway," Han continued, with a roll of her eyes. "The new band has started doing these mega-cool sleepover tours now, we have sleeping bags and everything."

"So you're crashing on floors?" Cas asked, smirking at Dean like they were sharing some joke at Han's expense.

"And in the vans when floors are otherwise occupied," Han finished primly, turning quickly to stick her tongue out at the punk before facing Gabriel again. "We're staying at the house that belongs to the brother of one of the drummer's friends. The drummer for The Adorables, not our drummer...I think."

"That ridiculous you should-" Gabriel started at the same time that Castiel made a face and said, "The Adorkables? What a shitty-"

"Stay with us!" the elder Adler finished, raising his voice in order to be heard over Cas's distaste for the name of Han's tourmates.

"What?" Han said quickly, glancing back and forth between the two brothers for a second before pointing a finger at Cas. "You name a band Skynet, zip it. And Gabe that's too much to ask, really. Marc and Trev and I are good where we're at."

"And where is that, sleeping on a living room floor?" Gabriel asked, his voice taking on a disapproving tone that Dean was certain was reminiscent of Cas's Maimeo if the way the punk winced was anything to go by.

Han was cowed too, the girl's shoulders slumping as she resolutely started at the remnants of her tacos and said, "Kitchen floor, house's crowded with all of us there."

"No, that's ridiculous," the older man said, shaking a garlic fry in the other girl's direction. "Your band can come stay with us. Your boys can use the fold out and Meg's room is mosty bed, I'm sure she wouldn't mind sharing."

Dean scoffed under his breath because he was sure Meg would just _love_ Han, if past experiences were any indication of the future at least. He felt a foot nudge against his own underneath the table and looked over to see Cas smirking conspiratorily at him.

"You might want to check with Meg before you invite people to stay over," Cas said, his smile growing when Gabe gave him a confused look. "Y'know before she goes all _scree scree scree._ "

Cas made the 'Psycho' stabbing gesture to go along with the sound effect, causing Sam to laugh out loud and Gabriel to roll his eyes. Dean smothered his smile in his soda can as quickly as possible.

"Whatever, Crash," Han said dismissively, snatching the last garlic fry out of Sam and Gabriel's little paper boat. "If your roommate is anything like you two then she'll love me."

"I agreed," Gabriel said, whipping out his phone and pointing it in Han's direction. "Say cheese, Hanners. You're about to meet your weekend roommate."

"Christ, I hate pictures," Han muttered pushing a hand through her curly hair and forcing a smile that looked pained.

Or it did until Cas slid over and looped his arm around her neck and posed for Gabe with a cheesy thumbs up right next to Han's face. Then the girl's smile became genuine giggles, her whole face flushing a pretty shade of pink as Cas's expression became more ridiculous with crossed eyes and tongue reaching out to touch the tip of his nose.

"Oh my god, you can never leave, Han," Gabriel announced as the shutter noise sounded on his phone a few times in quick succession.

Dean was happy he hadn't eaten much of his food yet, chewing gave him an excuse not to smile.

* * *

Cas was pretty sure that Dean was mad at him.

And he really had no idea how to fix it this time. But really, how could he have prepared for Gabe just blurting out that he and Han had... _history._ At least he hoped that's all that remark had been, but still. There was no fucking way he could have known that was going to happen.

Gabe could have just as easily blurted out the story about the time he caught Cas trying to learn that _Torrance_ song from 'Bring It On' so he could adapt it for this foreign exchange student named Laurent who Gabe had been friends with when his older brother was a junior and Cas was in the seventh grade. Okay, maybe not blurted because it was a hella long story, but it would've been cute and way less awkward since Laurent had gone back to France with Cas doing nothing about his mid-pubescent lovelorn curiosity besides jerking off until his dick hurt.

But now Han was FaceTiiming with Meg like the two had grown up plotting to take over the world together and Dean was sulking with his own phone near his car and Cas was just trying to think of a way to reassure the other man that it was Dean he wanted to spend time with; Han would find a way to entertain themselves.

A muffled chime sounded as Cas finished shepherding the remainder of the lunch trash to the can that was chained to the back end of Chi'lantro's truck. Sam and Gabriel had abandoned the endeavor before it even started, collapsing into a messy makeout session that Dean had made a face at before retreated to make a short phone call and Han had just ignored the couple in favor of answering Gabe's phone when Meg's face popped up as a call.

Dusting his hands off on his shorts, Cas dug his hand into his pocket which is phone chimed insistently several more times.

 **D.B.:** Bruh, Chaz gave me two good reasons for not to go to that Cro-Mags show tonight. _[1:36pm]_

 **D.B.:** Because I couldn't think of anything this morning and she is much smarter than me _[1:38pm]_

 **D.B.:** She's making me say this btw. _[1:38pm]_

 **D.B.:** She wants me to say she's gorgeous too. _[1:39 pm]_

Cas smirked at the incoming texts, remembering the way that Dor had tried to distract him from his despondency about Dean loudly proclaiming that he just wanted to be friends when Cas had no idea how to deal with finally caring about someone who _only_ wanted that. She had asked him what band he and Dean were seeing and then scoffed when he had named the hardcore thrash band. But she hadn't been able to think of anyone else playing worth seeing on the first night of Chaos in Tejas and had left it alone.

 **Castiel:** Are those the reasons? 'Cuz I'm still thinking Cro-Mags are a go. _[1:41pm]_

As an afterthought he added:

 **Castiel:** Also...bruh? no _[1:42pm]_

 **D.B.:** Whatever. Ur my main bruh, bro. Don't deny it. _[1:43pm]_

 **Castiel:** Focus, D. _[1:43pm]_

He began ambling towards Sam and Gabriel who looked like they were desuctioning as he waited for Dor's reply. It didn't take long.

 **D.B.:** Right! There are boobs here, my dick is distracted. Reason 1, Dean wears glasses. Glasses + thrash punk = sad face loverboy with broken (1 of 2) _[1:46pm]_

 **D.B.:** glasses. Reason 2, Cro-Mags suck and Smoking Popes are playing at Gatsby. There's twinkle lights there! Free ambiance! (2 of 2) _[1:46pm]_

The punk's phone chimed again as he was considering whether or not it was worth it asking Dor exactly what that meant.

 **Chaz:** Have you even met Dean!? I've given you the opening to confess your luurve while 'I Know You Love Me' is playing. Don't be dumb, Cas! _[1:48pm]_

Cas glanced up at the man in question who was tapping his own phone against his chin as he stared absently at Han blowing kisses presumably at Meg on Gabe's phone. God, he was so stupidly in love with Dean. But was he ready to tell the other man? Could he be the man that Dean wanted? That he deserved?

Historically, the answer to that was 'No'.

Before he could reply to a text from either of his friends, Han came bounding up to him with a wide smile on their face.

"Crash! Meg is a riot, please tell me she has a hot twin brother or something," Han gushed, clasping onto his forearm as they spoke.

"Pretty sure she doesn't," Castiel replied evenly, quirking an eyebrow at his friend as their face fell into a pout. "But I'm not totally sure that she's exclusively into guys either. Want me to ask?"

"Nah it's alright," Han replied, waving their hand dismissively. "You know how I am, you gotta have a johnson to get this Johnson."

The punk scrunched up his face in mock disgust as his friend waved their hand up and down their body and waggled their eyebrows at him.

"C'mon, Cas, don't judge. Some of us haven't been laid in ages," Han groused, running a hand through their hair with a sigh before squaring their jaw in determination. Cas smirked as Han's posture became looser, swaggering almost, as they ran their thumb over their bottom lip and squinted up at him. "How 'bout this, dude? You play my wingman for the weekend, help me find one guy who isn't a jerk or a perv and I will help you with Cutiegeek McSadface over there."

"Do not call him that please?" Cas pleaded, cutting his eyes towards Dean who looked engrossed by his phone again. "I think he's already pissed at me.. And what the fuck were you guys talking about while I was getting the food anyway?"

Han winced and managed to pull off a chastised look. "Alright, that wasn't my fault...okay, maybe I shouldn't have been teasing Gabe about trading up to Sam, but he was the one who said that he was too traumatized to ever bring it up again so I really didn't think that he would so -"

"What did he say?" the other man asked, cutting off Han while he pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to stifle the headache he could already feel forming. "Christ, was it about that time he walked in on us watching porn together?"

"Uh...sorta, yea," Han replied evasively, rubbing their hand over their mouth as they continued so that it came out muffled. "More So th' tymph we wern munksin inf."

"What?" Cas asked, rolling his eyes before reaching out to tug his friend's hand down from their mouth when they tried to just shake their head in reply. "What did he say, Han?"

"He might have maybe implied a little bit that we sorta used to just sometimes…" Han trailed off before shrugging one their shoulders. "That we...y'know….used to like...sleep together and stuff….in high school."

"Oh Jesus-fuck," Cas cursed, letting go of Han's arm so he could use both hands to tug at his hair in frustration. "I fucking knew it. He can't just keep his...ugh, he just has like no filter sometimes. God, no wonder Dean is acting weird, fucking Gabe."

"Yea, he's the Prince of Dicks alright," Han agreed, grinning triumphantly when Cas let out a scoff at his brother's newest nickname. "But listen, Dean would've found out anyway, right? I mean, you would've told him once you got real serious with him anyway, so maybe this is better. Gabe just ripped that band-aid right off for you."

"Along with half my eyebrow," the punk replied only half-dismissively because that was a thing that had actually happened once and Han knew that, so they also knew that Cas had to be considering the merit of their words. "But Dean's still mad, H. And I don't know how to fix it."

"Well maybe it'll fix itself," the other person with a nonchalant wave of their hand in Dean's general direction. "The boy's not stupid, Cas. I know that, you don't like 'em stupid. He's gotta know that you've been with other people and yea, you and I fucked around in high school, but it's not like we dated or anything."

"Yea, but we were each other's first, Han. And now we're practically siblings, can't you see why that might weird him out?"

"Whatever!" Han replied, rolling their eyes so hard it looked like they might lose a contact. "Virginity is a ridiculous social construct and you and I were dumb kids figuring our shit out. We felt safe doing that with each other because both of us had more shit to figure out than some other people. It's not weird for me, is it weird for you?"

"You know it's not that, Han," Cas answered ineffectively, frustrated because he couldn't find the words to get his point across. "I just...don't have a lot of family and I wanted him to like you, okay?"

"Pssh, like me? By the end of this weekend Dean's gonna fucking love me. Just like you and Gabe love me."

Han stepped in and wrapped their arms around Cas's middle, squeezing him in a tight hug that made his ribs ache.

"I hope so," Cas muttered, tucking his face into the other's hair as they embraced. "Because I do love the fuck out of you, you deranged merperson you."

Han giggled over the endearment though it was stifled by the fact that their face was pressed into Cas's sternum so hard that their chin was gouging a magnificent bruise.

"Hey uh...Cas?" Dean's voice sounded nearby causing the punk to snap his head up to see that the other man was shuffling nervously about five feet away; his shoulders bowed and his arms crossed tightly over his chest. "Yea, I know that you two are having like...a moment, but did you still want to go check out that other shop before we went to Beerland?"

Cas was still trying to think of a way that he could casually suggest that they change their plans from beer-drenched thrash punk to twinkle lights and songs with overtly romantical undertones when Dean spoke again.

"Or like...I can make myself scarce or whatever?" Dean offered quickly, taking a shuffling step in the direction of his car. "Give you two some time to um...catch up?"

"You will not!" Han exclaimed, practically pushing Cas away as they rushed to loop a casually restraining arm around Dean's shoulders. "I'll have plenty of time to gossip with Cassie-bear over the weekend, you two go do your shopping or whatever. Gabe's gonna take me to grab the band so that we can drop our stuff off at the house and then Meg and I were going to hit up some vintage stores to see if I could find a belt buckle."

"B-belt buckle?" Dean stammered, looking pleadingly in Cas's direction as Han tightened their grip on him and jostled him playfully.

"Dude, its Texas," Han explained, sighing loudly when Dean continued to look at them in confusion. "I want a huge ass belt buckle because the size of your belt buckle equates to the size of your dick, right? So I need one that's like...massive."

"I uh...don't think that's how that works," Dean said giving Cas a quick once over that the punk felt down to his bones before the other man blushed tellingly and looked away. "But I'm not from here so Texas customs and stuff...yea."

"You should ask our friend Dor," Castiel added, rocking back on his heels when Dean's eyes snapped up to meet his. "She's from East Texas, she would know."

"Sounds good," Han replied cluelessly, smacking a kiss onto the side of Dean's face before they bounced over and did the same to Cas. "Dean, stay gold ponyboy. Cas, I'll see you at yours? Or text me later maybe? I don't think the band has plans for later yet. We'll meet up with you guys somewhere if you two want. Kaykay?"

"Sure," Cas replied giving his friend an absent wave as they bounced over to his brother and Sam where they had finally migrated towards Gabe's car. "So uh...you wanted to like go to check out another store or something right?"

His words seemed to snap Dean out of whatever daze the other man had fallen into, causing Dean to clear his throat and nod sharply in reply.

Cas fell into step beside the other man as Dean patted down his pockets for his keys and even though he really really wanted to, he didn't reach out to take ahold of one of his hands. If anyone were to ask him why, well the answer that he heard a little Dor voice giving in his head was that he was 'a flippin' coward'.

* * *

Dean had been planning on taking Cas to Buffalo Exchange because the other man had mentioned that he needed some more clothes during one of their many late night phone calls over the last week. Plus Antone's was like two doors down and he had seen a test-pressing of a Pixies LP there and he thought the other man would appreciate it.

He had been trying to be fucking thoughtful when he'd initially made the plans. Y'know...make himself seem more worthy of being boyfriend material? Make Cas go 'huh, who needs unlimited sex when I can have a steady lay who is also concerned about my basic needs?!'

That's what he been stupidly hopeful would happen anyway. At like 9am yesterday morning.

Now he was sort of panicking because he had sent Charlie a 911 text shortly after Gabe's phone had started blaring some song signaling Meg's heart-to-heart with Han. The fact that the two girls got along wouldn't have bothered Dean so much if he could just stop picturing Cas in the middle of a manic-pixie-dreamgirl sandwich.

Instead Dean had tossed most of his lunch into the trash and scampered off to cajole Charlie into calling him with some made up emergency that got him out and away from all of this so he could just _breathe_. And maybe even start to get his head on straight or straight enough that he could push down his feelings for Cas to an acceptable level, a 'bro' level.

A 'bro-we-slept-together-and-holy-fuck-i-might-definitely-love-you-but let's-just-be-bros' level.

Dean was about 70% sure that if he put his mind to he it could probably, maybe manage it. He just needed a couple of hours and possibly some deep, therapeutic crying on the phone with his sister before he could say for sure.

But here he was driving aimlessly in the direction of Guadalupe street, for once not cursing Austin's festival traffic that clogged up the streets anytime more than five bands were playing downtown on one weekend, because he had no idea what to do besides stick to his original plans. Charlie had texted him back saying she would 'take care of it' after he had fully explained why he needed her to call and say she or Dor had broken a bone or something; he wasn't sure what that meant and he wasn't really comforted.

His nerves were starting to fray from the tense silence that had taken up residence in the Impala as soon as he and Cas were alone again, but the looks were what was just _killing_ him. Because every time he looked over at the other man it was like the punk was just on the edge of speaking, his chapped lips parted and his expression a mixture of hopeful and lost. It just made Dean want to scream at Cas, ask him to just come out and say whatever it was that he needed to say. To just fucking let him down gently already.

Dean was fucking determined to not let it get to that point, for the sake of at least maintaining a friendship with the other man, and if he could just get his emotions in check it wouldn't have to. He just needed a distraction, for both him and Cas, preferably not something Han-shaped or sexy because that might make him cry, but he was just about willing to take just about anything at this point.

Like the women in his life could read his thoughts, Dean's phone started a muffled rendition of Bikini Kill's 'Carnival' started playing in the pocket of his shorts; a song that Dor had uploaded to his phone for the sole purpose of it being her ringtone for when she called. Dean jumped at the noise and the vibration from the phone, jerking the wheel hard to the right for a second causing Cas to mutter a curse and brace a hand in the open space between them on the Impala's bench seat.

"S-sorry," Dean stammered, righting the car to a chorus of annoyed honks from the other vehicles around him. "Just...fuck. Perfect fucking timing, Dor."

"Jesus, Dean. You okay?" Castiel asked carefully causing Dean to look over to see the punk's other hand gripping hard at the upper window frame of his door, the tendons in his forearm strained and his veins standing out against his skin.

Dean nodded tersely, his grip on the wheel becoming white-knuckled as Dor's ringtone played itself out in his pocket, going to his voicemail which Dor wouldn't leave a message at because she said her voice sounded weird on those things. So he was more prepared when his phone started buzzing and signing a second time. Only this time with Charlie's ringtone, Cub's 'What the Water Gave Me', even more muffled than Dor's because the song was just softer in general.

"You gonna get that?" Cas asked this time, the fingers on the hand that was resting between them twitching towards the blocky outline of Dean's phone that was visible in his right pocket. "It could be important."

Dean inwardly cursed himself because this was probably Dor or Charlie trying to give him his out and he was going to miss it. Well fuck that.

"Actually uh…" he started hesitantly, biting his lip because apparently things with the punk were just going to get even more awkward before he got a chance to make it better. "Could you just uh...get it?"

"Get it?" Cas repeated dazedly and Dean knew that he didn't need to look over at the other man, not if he wanted to keep his resolve to get past this stupid, hopeless crush. "I-I mean, yea. I'll get it, no prob."

Dean cleared his throat and just focused on driving as he saw Cas's hand move towards him out of his periphery. Even though he knew it was coming he still had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep from making a noise when he felt the other man's fingers slide over his hip when it searched for the opening of his pocket, sliding in deep enough that Dean could feel the warmth of Cas's palm through the thin liner of his pocket before the punk's nimble fingers latched onto his phone.

It felt like he was inhaling past a pound of gravel covered in cigar ash and sandpaper when he took his next breath, but at least it remained steady. His dick on the other hand gave a valiant twitch and whoop, there Dean was biting the inside of his cheek again. He was pretty sure he tasted blood.

"Dean's phone, his secretary speaking," Cas's voice said lightheartedly, though to Dean's ears it sounded off, forced. "Mm-hmm…I see...Well, let me consult Mr. Smith's shed-duel."

The other man pulled the phone away from his face and covered the receiver with his fingertips, speaking in a conspiratory whisper in Dean's direction. "Dor said she and Charlie are at some place called Toy Joy, they want us to meet them there?"

Dean nodded enthusiastically, angling the Impala into the closest turning lane so he could reorient himself to their new destination even though he was sorta cursing Charlie in his head for not coming up with something that would give him an excuse to drop Cas off with Han and Gabe and take off entirely. Maybe Char was planning on faking a hernia or something in Toy Joy, making it look real authentic...yea, hopefully that was it.

That wasn't Charlie's plan.

Apparently Char's version of 'handling it' was to split them up, which while helpful wasn't exactly a _brilliant_ strategy. But at least the redhead was quick about it, in fact they had barely made it in the door before she whisked Dean away to the massive action figure section that the local Austin toystore sported so that he could debate the merits of her buying yet another Willow action figure that had a slight variation in the color of paint used for the hair than the other five figures that his roommate already had. And Dor was busy sipping a sludgy look smoothie and bouncing on a large inflatable Rody horse while she talked to Cas who was half-heartedly fiddling with a display of Simpsons merchandise that was on the shelf behind her.

But y'know, Dean couldn't really complain too much; beggars being choosy and whatever. He _was_ getting his breathing room and the sheer volume of just... _stuff_ in the store was proving to be just the distraction Dean needed to get out of his head a little bit.

"Y'know, I always liked Oz too," Charlie mused, picking up a box containing the figure in question playing a guitar in all of his redheaded glory. "I mean...I liked Tara more, but Oz was a good guy. He was smart, kept his cards kinda close to his chest, y'know?"

"Yea," Dean agreed distractedly, trying not to look over at Cas and Dor who were moving away from the Rody display and towards a giant wall of magnets that was presided over by a fairly large picture of the assholes from ICP. "Oz was a good guy, that role was about the only thing I ever thought Seth Green was hot in."

"It was probably the whole musician thing," his roommate replied, nudging her elbow lightly into his ribs. "You seem to have a type. Speaking of…"

"Charlie, no," Dean pleaded, tucking his arms in close to his sides to avoid being prodded. "This is exactly what I don't what to talk about and you know it."

The other girl let out a put-upon sigh and rolled her eyes before plunking the toy back onto its shelf, carefully plunking because she was the same way with her collectibles that Dean was, but it was enough that her frustration was clearly evident.

"I just don't understand what happened between last night and this morning to make you think that you don't stand a chance," Charlie complained, her voice getting louder as she spoke which worried Dean because he didn't want Cas to overhear. He hoped Dor was doing a good job distracting the other man. "I mean, yea whatever you fell asleep on him. Big fucking deal, it's not like you puked on his dick or anything."

Dean smirked slightly at the memory of Cas saying something similar, only with a haunted expression like it had happened to the punk before.

"Everything would just be so much easier if you two would just talk to each other," Char continued, snapping Dean out of his musing. "Instead of just moping around thinking that every time you fart it makes you 'less worthy' of the other or some stupid bullshit."

"Have you been drinking?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow at the other girl. Charlie could be blunt when she wanted to be, but she usually left the crudeness to Dor; today being the exception.

If he didn't have two very scary women in his family he would guess that she's PMSing, but even having the thought made Dean feel the phantom pain of Jo punching him in his arm.

"No," Charlie answered, giving Dean a weird look when he started rubbing at his bicep with a frown on his face. "I'm just super tired of the fact that every word that comes out of your mouth is another self-deprecating excuse for why Cas would never want to date you. At this point it just sounds like you're making up excuses to stay miserable."

"I'm not making u-" Dean startled, getting silenced by his roommate rounding on him suddenly and slapping a hand over his mouth.

"Unless the next words out of your mouth are really _good_ reason for why you won't just grow a pair and go talk to Cas then you can just zip it," Char interrupted, removing her hand to allow him a chance when Dean nodded in agreement, only to hold up her finger to silence him again when he opened his mouth to speak. "And I mean it's gotta be a reason that Stephen fucking Hawking would agree with, Dean. Not some bullshit about how you're not cool enough to date someone with a lip ring."

Dean frowned hard at the other woman, because he would _never_ say something so asinine, rude.

He took a couple of huffing steps away from Charlie before he realized he was headed into the predominately pink corner that held Toy Joy's massive stock of Sanrio merchandise and just stopped. Dean closed his eyes against the Hello Kitty assault and took a deep breath, hoping that when he spoke this time his voice wouldn't shake and maybe Charlie would finally drop the subject and actually help him move on.

"We ran into Cas's friend Han today, they um...have a history," Dean started, his chest constricting when his memory replayed how earnest the punk's voice had sounded as he had held on to Han and told her he loved her, like it was just that easy to say; like loving Han was like breathing for Cas. It had never been that easy between he and the other man.

He cleared his throat again before continuing."They have like...a serious history. And seeing them together just kinda made me realize that I'm building up whatever...attraction there is between me and Cas into something more than it actually is. It's not healthy for me and it's not fair to him. So I'm just going to make myself stop, okay? "

"Dean, if you would just-"

Dean tensed all over when he heard the pity in his roommate's soft voice, gritting his teeth when he felt her dainty hand settle on his shoulder. "I just want to stop, Charlie. And I need you to either help me or just drop it, okay?"

"Alright, Dean," Char's voice agreed quietly, her arms coming under his own from behind as she hugged him around the middle. "I'll help you figure this out, I promise."

He let himself relax into the hug and kept his eyes shut, which mostly because he didn't want anyone to think he was crying over a Hello Kitty lunchbox. That would just be stupid.

* * *

Cas wasn't sure what the fuck had gone down at the toy store, all he knew was that one minute he and Dor had been playing with dinosaur hand puppets and the next minute Charlie was in front of him practically crying as she yelled at him that he needed to 'make a grand fucking gesture' towards Dean at the show tonight or she was going to do some creative, unsexy things to his balls.

That had happened while Dean was in the bathroom, but luckily Dor managed to calm her girlfriend down by the time the other man quietly rejoined the trio at the front of the store near the hand shaped chairs. Castiel noticed that Dean looked if possible even more subdued than he had for most of the day and his stomach plummeted when he weighed that against Charlie's threats.

The rest of the afternoon felt like it passed too quickly, like time was conspiring against him as he and Dean continued to peruse the shops adjacent to Toy Joy with Dor and Charlie. Cas kept trying to show the other man the casual affection that Dean had asked for earlier in the day, but every smile that he got in return to his pet names and his touches looked forced and slightly sad.

He knew the whole Han-thing was bothering the other man, but this felt like...more. It felt like an ending.

The longer Dean's behavior carried on the more resolved Cas became to swallow his nerves and just tell the other man that he wanted to start...something with he really didn't care what label Dean wanted to put on it, even if Cas still thought he would be a shit show of a boyfriend himself. Sure, it was probably too early to be tossing around L-bombs, but Cas knew for sure that he wanted something more with Dean, something substantial.

Yea, he really wanted substantial with Dean.

Which was some scary fucking shit to admit out loud.

Luckily Dor was there to help him figure it out. While Char and Dean were inside Joe's Coffee talking about some other comic book movie that was coming out in a couple of months, Cas surreptitiously shared a couple of cigarettes with the bartender and strategized about how he had to first, fuck up the schedule Dean had made by going to the Smoking Popes show instead of to Beerland and then second, use the fact that there was a 99.9% chance that one of pop punk's most sincerely romantic love songs would probably be played at some point tonight to his advantage.

"Dude," Dor said taking a drag off of Cas's cigarette after looking over her shoulder to see if Charlie was looking their way. "You just need to like...cup his face and like...mouth along to some of the lyrics and shit. Dean's a huge sap, you could probably just stare intensely into his eyes and quote some ripped off line from out of a Kundera novel and he'd drop to his knees right there."

"Blow jobs are so not the point of this, D," Cas said tapping his lighter on the table in agitation for a few moments before tossing it down and pushing his free hand through his hair. "I've just...never had to do the whole 'confessing feelings' thing before. It's a mind fuck, man."

"Really?" the other woman asked incredulously, pulling up the strap of the thin tank-top she was wearing where it had fallen. "I thought you'd been all truly, madly, deeply at least once before? At least that's what I've figured led to your lightning fast descent into debauchery - a relationship gone wrong."

The punk grimaced, because while it wasn't an entirely accurate descriptor for what had happened with him and Daphne, the label of 'trainwreck' could still be applied. "Yea, but that time I just dropped all my shit and followed her to Colorado. I don't think that counts as confessing anything because the gesture was pretty self-explanatory."

"You have a point," Dor conceded, bringing her hand up to her mouth so that she could gnaw on her thumbnail. "But hey it can't be that hard...I mean, I'm shit with words and I got Charlie. So, I don't know. Just tell him you like him alot and care about him, but more than in a friend capacity. And then kiss him, sweet with no tongue while some sappy fucking song is playing."

"Should I be writing this down?" Castiel asked only half jokingly, biting his lip when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye and looked up to catch a glimpse of Dean with his head thrown back in laughter though the window. "Oh god, fuck me."

Dor glanced behind her to see what Cas was looking at and made a small 'Hm' noise before popping off of the stool that she had been perched on and dusting off the seat of her bermuda shorts. "I always thought Dean was a bottom, guess you never know."

* * *

Dean hadn't claimed to be an expert on the Austin music scene or anything when he and Cas had first been discussing which bands they wanted to see over the weekend and he certainly wasn't the leading authority on what a good punk song sounded like. So he'd really just taken the other man's word at which bands were worth seeing or not when he'd started making his spreadsheet.

But Dean was a stickler for research, so even after Cas and he had gone through the list of featured bands and venues and showtimes together during one sorta surreal mid-afternoon phone call when they both had been taking a break while doing doubles at their respective jobs. Dean had meticulously highlighted every band on the printout that he had gotten from the festival's website and then gone home and made a point to listen to at least one song by every band, two if he had really liked the first.

He made it through about 30 seconds of a Cro-Mags song before turning it off.

So when Cas suggested that they change their plan, Dean was entirely on board. In fact, he was sorta hoping that Charlie and Dor would be up to going along with them, but apparently the two girls had to head off to work themselves. They offered to meet up with the two men at Kerbey Lane once Dor got off, but Dean knew that the other woman usually liked to crash after a long night bartending, especially when festivals were in town so he just nodded at the tentative plans even though he knew that they would fall through.

The only problem was now Dean was back in the same boat that he had been in before texting Charlie that 911, maybe in a better headspace about the whole thing, but still y'know...fucked.

It's not like he was going to be able to fall out of love with Cas in one afternoon, even when he knew he should. And the fact that the other man was doing exactly what had been asked of him earlier, practically showering Dean in cautious, endearingly earnest affection, was just making the whole distancing thing harder. If Dean were a lesser man he would just ditch Cas at Gatsby's and go hole up in his room with an entire pie from the Whole Foods bakery and the really sad episodes of Futurama on repeat.

But he was fucking strong, alright? He was a fucking Smith and if his little sister could have the balls to do half of the stupid, brash things that she did on a regular basis, well then Dean could make it through this weekend and next weekend and every weekend that he had to see Cas and just be his friend. Until Cas left and then he could allow himself to pine...for the first time since meeting the other man Dean had started to hope that that time would come sooner rather than later.

"Hey, I'm gonna get another," Castiel said touching the small of Dean's back lightly to get his attention. The punk wiggled his own empty beer bottle in the direction of the one Dean had in his own hands and raised his eyebrow in question.

Dean hadn't realized that he had zoned out while he was leaning against the railing of Gatsby's upper patio, but he was pretty proud of the fact that Cas hadn't seemed to notice since the punk just smiled at him when he shook his head; darting in to drop a kiss on Dean's cheek before heading towards the stairs that led down to the venue's one bar inside the building.

Unlike the Mohawk, Gatsby's was tiny. More like Red7 in that respect, but even then it only boasted an outdoor stage and one circular bar that was better known for its signature cocktails and its intimate setting than the raucous jazz nights that were kept a closely guarded secret amongst its regulars. Hell, Dean only knew about them because Garth was apparently a champion swing dancer and liked to brag when he won another trophy.

But even their straight-laced, waxed and dapper staff were known to let their hair down when a festival came to town. So Dean and Cas had found it easy to get lost in the shuffle of patrons milling around the usually dress-coded nightspot in dirty Converse and faded band t-shirts and had snagged a good spot on the upper patio to watch the first band warm up the crowd.

Though really it was less of a band and more of one guy alternating between singing and screaming while playing a guitar in a way that still managed to sound mournful and self-deprecating. It had been during his set that Dean had managed to zone out though a part of him had still been distantly aware of the long line of warmth that Cas was creating at his side as the punk buffered him from the crowd of show-goers jostling around them.

Now that Cas had stepped away to get another drink all of the strangers felt too close and too much, too loud for the headache that Dean could feel forming behind his eyes.

A very large part of him just wanted to ask Cas if they could go home, especially since he was pretty sure that the punk could tell that something was bothering him. The kiss on Dean's cheek had been prefaced by a hint of hesitance and Dean hated that he was making Cas feel uncertain in his affections, even though a small, petty part of him felt triumph at the fact that he could make the other man feel even one-tenth as bad as Dean had been feeling while watching Han and Cas together. And watching Cas and Meg together. And looking at pictures on Cas's facebook of the punk draped all over long-limbed boys and dark-haired girls.

It was kinda pathetic that Dean hadn't realized that the tight achy feeling in his chest that he had been feeling this entire time was jealously until today.

He picked at the label on his beer bottle halfheartedly as he waited for Cas to return from the bar, waving off apologies when someone bumped him as they passed. It seemed like an eternity had gone by before the other man turned up again with two beers in his hands and a supremely bored looking Balthazar in tow.

"Look who I found," Castiel said, tilting his head in his coworker's direction as he spoke.

The punk sidled up to Dean and plucked his half-full, lukewarm beer out of his hands, replacing it with a cold one before he downed the other in a few large gulps and passed the empty off to Balthazar who tipped it into a nearby trashcan.

"Hello, Dean," Balthazar said, raising his own plastic cup full of liquor at him in greeting before grimacing when a wildly gesticulating man nearby knocked his arm, sloshing a little of his drink over the rim. "Gods, this is horrible. It's like a bloody frat house in here. I don't know how you can stand it."

"Well, how are you standing it?" Dean asked, grinning to himself when his question made Cas snort in laughter; at least until the punk slid an arm around his waist and reeled him in close with a fond look on his face.

That kinda made Dean lose his breath for a second and it took a good five or six repetitions of 'don't read into it, don't read into it' before he managed to relax into the touch and find his bearings again.

The Brit shrugged, delving a hand into the pocket of his jeans to pull out an ornate cigarette case. "It helps that I have it on good authority that if I suffer through this, I'm going to get laid tonight. Paid my dues, you see?"

"Meg?" Castiel asked, reaching forward to take a cigarette when the other man offered him one; tucking it smoothly behind his ear. "Guess she's finally stopped hating you, huh?"

"Oh no, she still loathes me," Bathazar replied, producing a lighter with which he carefully lit his own cigarette. "But I'm hoping I can change that."

"Good luck with that," Dean said, raising his voice to be heard over the next band beginning their sound check.

"Cheers," the other man replied, glaring disdainfully down at the crowd that was amassing in front of the stage. "Guess I should go find her then, she was supposed to meet me here after taking care of some things 'round yours."

"Yea, Gabe was feeling extra maternal today," Castiel replied in a long-suffering voice. "You might want to consider taking Meg back to your place, ours is going to be pretty crowded tonight."

"Oh I know," Balthazar replied sounding a little bored with the whole thing, in fact he was already starting to walk away. "But Meg said she'd just pick the lock to your room so that your mate could just sleep in there and I could stay over too. No worries, Cas, we'll have privacy. Meg's got it sorted."

"That wasn't really my concern," Castiel muttered sullenly since the other man had already slipped off into the crowd that was starting to gather up near the balcony railing since it looked like the next band was about to start. "Hopefully Han doesn't steal all my fucking clothes again."

Dean made an effort to ignore the wave of jealously that washed over him, it was irrational for so many reasons. Case in point, Cas's shirts were like a size too small to fit him anyway.

A Western-y sounding guitar riff drew Dean out of his thoughts, causing him to turn toward the stage where a trio of rockabilly styled Hispanic girls had taken the stage, the guitarist's deft fingers plucking out the twanging notes. Dean let a surprised smile tug at the corners of his mouth when the girl then launched into a poppy, croony, more than slightly angsty song.

This...was probably going to be much better than the Cro-mags.

* * *

He managed to coax Dean down from the upper balcony during Girl in a Coma's set and if that was the only thing that Cas managed to do tonight then he would consider the whole thing an accomplishment. Even if he didn't manage to make a 'grand fucking gesture' or whatever, Cas knew that Dean was enjoying himself.

And he could work on the whole finding out how to explain to the other man that he was kinda definitely in love with him...maybe admit it when they were alone instead of surrounded by several hundred sweaty, drunk people. Yea, it would probably be more meaningful that way.

Somehow they had managed to make it almost all the way to the front of the audience by the time the band started it's final song; a mournful cover of 'Do You Love Me Now?' by The Breeders. The song had Dean clutching onto the hand that Cas had kept protectively on Dean's hip as they moved closer to the stage, twining their fingers together and squeezing so hard that Cas was pretty sure his fingers were numb. In turn he had just placed a kiss or two on the back of Dean's neck and hoped that that he reassurance he was aiming for was coming across.

If Dean let him, then Cas would make sure that the other man never had a reason to identify with the words in that particular song.

Once Girl in a Coma cleared the stage, Cas managed to lead them to a spot that had opened up right up against the wooden stage that was about as high as Dean's waist.

"Are you sure we want to be this close?" Dean asked, nodding apologetically when he knocked elbows with an excited look teen who was bouncing in place closer to the center of the stage, 'X's firmly in place on the back of both hands.

"Yes, this is awesome," Castiel said, glancing around at the crowd, a majority of which had fled into the bar and the bathrooms since there was short break when bands were setting up, before coming to a decision that he should probably snag more drinks too. "You, keep our spots and I'm gonna grab us more beers so we don't have to try to move once the band starts."

"You promise I won't get crushed or like kicked in the face or anything being up here?" Dean questioned, giving the stage a concerned look before he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose in a seemingly nervous gesture.

Cas smiled at how unknowingly adorable the other man was being and moved in close to snag Dean's empty beer bottle that he has set on the edge of the stage when they had moved. He also took the opportunity to catch the other man's mouth in a kiss, the first one that they had shared all day.

The punk made a point to keep the kiss brief and at least semi-chaste, which in Cas's experience meant minimal tongue and no wandering hands. He hoped the gesture came across reassuring, since Dean had been skittish all day, but despite his mostly honorable intentions Cas couldn't help but grin to himself as the kiss ended and Dean's lips chased his own almost unconsciously.

Cas hoped that meant that Dean was feeling this whole thing between them as hard as he was, but of course it wouldn't be too much longer before he found out for sure.

"I'll be right back," Castiel breathed, noticing that Dean's hand had moved to fist in the bottom hem of his t-shirt. "Don't go anywhere."

Dean nodded, biting his lip and blushing attractively when he released his grip on the punk's shirt and Cas hung around long enough to watch Dean reach into his pocket to presumably retrieve his phone before starting the his trek towards the bar.

* * *

"Hey," a cracking voice piped up next to Dean, causing him to glance up from where he was trying to appear absorbed in his phone to spot the kid that he had elbowed a couple minutes ago watching him excitedly. "Hey uh...dude, your boyfriend's right. Being up front is the best and the Popes don't really play music that people mosh to, but if you're worried about your glasses you can tuck them up under this amp over here with mine."

Dean glanced at the amp that the kid was gesturing at, opening to mouth to tell the him 'Thanks, but I'm good.' but the teen continued before Dean could get a chance to speak.

"Y'know normally my mom holds them for me, but she let me come to this show by myself for the first time because she had to work and I let her listen to the bands first so she knew they weren't all hardcore and stuff," the kid rattled off all this information in one breath and it took Dean back just a little because when he had been that age he would preferred being kicked in the balls to talking to strangers.

"I can't believe how old all the people here are," the boy continued twisting himself so that he was leaning back on his elbows against the stage, giving Dean a view of the faded Letters to Cleo t-shirt. "I mean,you look young, but your boyfriend looks like he's about 40."

"Yea," Dean started, torn between correcting the kid about Cas's age or correcting him about their presumed relationship, but considering the kiss that he had just shared with the other man _in front of_ this upstart teenager he figured he had to pick the battle that he could probably win "And how old are you, kid? Twelve...thirteen?"

"I'm fifteen, asshole," the kid replied with a frown, letting out a huff before he turned his back on Dean and started picking at a sticker that was peeling off the edge of the stage.

"Hey, man," Dean started, feeling immediately bad because who the fuck was he to rain on this kids parade? He was really letting all of this tension with Cas turn him into a dick. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...just sorry. I got some stuff going on."

The boy glanced warily at Dean before shrugging to himself and turning back to face him.

"It's okay, dude," he said, looking up when a guy came out on to the stage with a guitar and started to tune it quietly at the far right of the stage. "I'm Alfie by the way."

Dean replied with his own name, offering his hand to Alfie which the kid shook with a large grin on his face before the pair settled into a comfortable silence as they observed the slowly amassing crowd and the band members as they ambled onto the stage one by one to set up their instruments.

He tried not to look to obvious as his people-watching became less casual and more anxious the longer that Cas was off at the bar. God, maybe the other man had run into Balthazar again and the pair were laughing over how pathetically eager Dean had been when Cas had kissed him, but he'd been caught off guard; unprepared to gently rebuff the other man by turning his face away to get a kiss on the cheek instead. Or even worse, Cas was talking to Meg and they were doing the same thing.

To avoid catastrophizing Dean just turned his back on the crowd and focused on the band, a quartet, that were talking animatedly where they had gathered around the seated drummer at the back of the stage. He figured they were making a set list since the guy in the center was scribbling furiously on a scrap of paper with a sharpie.

"Hey uh, Dean," Alfie began quietly, tapping him on the shoulder since the showgoers around them had started chattering excitedly when the last member of the band had taken the stage, creating a droning buzz of white noise in the background. "Your personal stuff? Is uh...is it like relationship-type stuff?"

"Uh...sorta," Dean answered, marveling at the perceptiveness of the young man beside him. "How'd you know?"

"Well…" Alfie started, lifting his hand reluctantly after a few moments to point off into the crowd, squinting a little and making a face as he did so like he was watching a particularly violent scene in a slasher film. "Isn't that your boyfriend over there?"

Dean's gaze followed the direction of Alfie's pointed finger and when his stomach sank this time at least he was prepared for the hollow feeling that it left inside of him.

Cas's face was lit up with merriment, the punk's gaze focused on the face of the slender guy wearing a pair of sinfully tight, black skinny jeans, well-worn Keds, a white t-shirt with a vest thrown haphazardly over it, and a jauntily tilted grey newsboy hat.

As Dean watched, this... _stranger_ gesticulated wildly towards his crotch and Cas's gaze followed accordingly; the punk's mouth dropping open in obvious astonishment before he nodded his head and juggled the beers he was holding around until he had a free hand that he could use to reach out and drag his new acquaintance in close.

Dean turned his gaze away before he could see their mouths meet, but he was more than 100% certain that that's what was going on behind him.

"Man, I've never had a girlfriend or boyfriend or whatever," Alfie said beside him, giving Dean's arm an awkward, consoling pat on his arm. "But that seems pretty fucked up."

"Yea," Dean agreed quietly, blinking his eyes quickly so that the younger man wouldn't see his unbidden tears that were threatening to spill over. God, he couldn't let Cas see him upset about this...he wouldn't. "Um….yea, listen Alfie...it was good to meet you man-"

"Hey don't go," the boy interjected, jerking his head in Cas's direction. "Don't let that d-bag run you off, you don't want to miss the band."

"Um...y'know I probably wouldn't like it anyway," Dean said, shrugging as he inched away in the opposite direction of Castiel and his latest trick. "But you have fun, kid. You're only young once, y'know?"

With one last awkward wave to Alfie Dean slipped off into the crowd, intending initially to just go up to the balcony again until he got his stupid emotions back under control, but as he wormed his way through the crowd that began pressing in closer to the stage when a throat clearing sounded over the speaker, Dean declided that just leaving altogether was probably for the best. Mostly because he was actively crying now and people were giving him weird looks.

The doorway that led to Gatsby's interior was in sight when the band's lead singer started speaking.

"HI Austin, thanks for coming out to see us tonight. We're the Smoking Popes and we figured we'd just go ahead and get this one out of the way early. Ready, Eli?"

A moment later the song started and Dean was lucky it was loud, it was easier to disguise the sob he let out at the lyrics as laughter.

' _Let's hear it for heartache, let's hear it for pain, let's hear it for poison tears that wash your dreams down the drain…'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been forever...and I really have no excuse besides crippling depression and being severely overworked at a new job that is pretty stressful. I've been spending my days just coming home and zoning out with Neflix and for a while there it felt like all of them blurred together. But things are looking better and I feel like this update is the end of the writer's block. Exciting things are in the works, including a RuPaul DragRace AU and an update for It's Kind of a Funny Story, so keep your peepers peeled.
> 
> Feel free to come yell at me on tumblr, @deathsteel, I'll be posting an updated playlist for this fic within the next week.
> 
> **layout edits to come when I am not writing this junk on a tablet**


	16. chaos theory: phase three (makeup, toilets, colors, and toys (aka all things that are gender neutral, why are you gendering them?))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "If you want something you can have it, but only if you want everything that goes with it, including all the hard work and the despair, and only if you're willing to risk failure. ” -- Philip Pullman, _Clockwork_

In movies, when someone wakes up in a bed that doesn't belong to them it usually means at least one of the following has probably happened:

1\. They got totally smashed and passed out on the first flat surface that their knees connected with; they probably have a killer hangover.

2\. They got lucky, congratulations. Miraculously they wore comfortable shoes for the inevitable walk of shame.

3\. They're in Vegas and they accidentally married someone, hopefully they at least got some cool pictures with Elvis to display on the mantel next to their annulment.

4\. They tragically fell off of a train platform and bumped their head and now they're waking up in a hospital with a fiance they don't remember ever having met.

5\. They're waking up in a hospital, period. Hopefully there's not a zombie apocalypse brewing.

With any luck, it was one of the first two scenarios that led to the protagonist waking up in a strange bed. If they're living in a rom-com, it was probably the third or fourth, but that's okay because in those kind of movies everything always works out in the end anyway.

When Dean woke up it took him a few seconds to place the ceiling above him mostly because he was definitely hung over, but also because it was purple. As he squinted at it in confusion the events of the evening before rushed back over him and he rolled over to bury his face into one of the bed's pillows.

He prayed for zombies to come scratching at the door.

But the pillowcase he was currently bemoaning his existence in was lilac colored too and he knew that Dor had a thing for purple.

Dean also knew from past visits to his friend's house that most of the other woman's bathroom was decorated in purple and her plates were a weirdly hypnotic purple paisley pattern. He also pretty sure that he was the only other person besides Charlie who had the privilege of knowing where Dor's hide-a-key was kept, in a hanging planter of succulents that the other woman kept in the open air walkway that lead to her apartment.

So he highly doubted that the walking dead would be making a fortuitous appearance to put him out of his miserable existence any time soon. Nope, he was just painfully, pitifully hungover.

When he had ditched Cas like a heartbroken fucking coward at Gatsby's the plan had been to go running home with his tail between his legs, maybe pick up a six pack, definitely call his sister and cry like a fucking baby, but instead he'd found his legs carrying him around the corner to Red7. Probably not his smartest idea at the time because chances were fairly even that Cas might come looking for him; the guy was a walking boner as far as Dean was concerned, but that didn't mean that he would just shrug off Dean's sudden disappearance without a care in the world.

Cas might just get a blow job in the bar's bathroom first, but he'd probably at least text Dean asking where he'd gone eventually.

At the time, Dean had been too dazed to consider the idea that Cas might call him or, god forbid, chase him. But now as his morning breath began to heat up the pillowcase underneath him and his stomach started to roil faster than his head was pounding it seemed really stupid of him to have not at least considered it.

Luckily Dor had ended up being too busy to inquire about Castiel's whereabouts, sweat making her usually artful pincurls droop and the staggering amount of people that were packed into Red7 making her responses to his inquiring about crashing at hers short.

"Just strip the bed if you do more than sleep," Dor hollered, holding six beer bottles aloft over her head as she squeezed past the barback filling up the ice bins on her way to deliver drinks to a guy in a spiked denim vest at the other end of the bar.

His phone started going off as Dean had jogged back to his car that was parked under the overpass at I-35 and 8th street. A glance at the screen had shown that it was Cas who was just now texting Dean after he'd left Gatsby's almost fifteen minutes earlier, he ignored the notification but it was much harder to block out the vision that he suddenly had of the other man; head thrown back against some dingy bathroom wall and face screwed up in pleasure as a vest clad back and a grey newsboy hat bobbed diligently between his legs.

The phone got turned off after the seventh time it vibrated and by then Dean was in his car and had to ignore a phone call instead of a text, but he figured that if anyone was really worried about him...well then Dor at least knew where to find him. It took him almost another half hour to get to Dor's apartment because of the weekend traffic and that was without stopping for alcohol.

Dean figured that the other woman was a bartender so she'd probably have some kind of booze in her house, turns out she had wine. Oh and about a shot worth of bubble gum flavored vodka stashed in her freezer which Dean slugged down first because he was sticky with anxiety-induced sweat and he figured he could easily wash away that pepto-bismol aftertaste with Dor's Two Buck Chuck.

She had four bottles of it in her fridge, so he figured that he hadn't been saving the Chardonnay for any special occasion.

He proceed to drink two whole bottles by himself and cry himself to sleep in Dor's bed while watching _My So Called Life._ Jordan fuckin' Catalano.

The similarities between the fictional character and Cas weren't lost on Dean as he reflected on his misspent evening while he stumbled towards the apartment's bathroom. They were both dark haired, bad boy, musicians who were unable to make a commitment to anything.

He managed a grin after he swigged some mouthwash to get rid of that grape/sawdust/ballsack flavor that drinking wine always left in his mouth. Cas could probably read, but damn...wouldn't that be the sweetest justice if he was secretly bad at _something._

After taking a perfunctory shower where he just shrugged at the sheer magnitude of bath products that Dorothy had before grabbing the first shampoo and body wash bottles he saw, Dean emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of Peach Passion and Acai Berry Bliss and decided that of course he should eat something before he bothered turning his phone back on. No point in starting the day on an empty stomach. Breakfast is the most important blahblahblah. And it was definitely lunchtime anyway.

He conveniently ignored the fact that the thought of eating at all kinda made him want to heave, but he lucked out because the only food that Dor had in her house that wasn't expired or moldy take-out was graham crackers and Nutella. His stomach didn't immediately rebel when he took his first bite, so Dean called that a win and settled onto the other woman's couch with a fuzzy aubergine throw blanket and the remote to her Roku, looking for something mindless that he could zone out on on for a bit.

It ended up being _The Notebook_ because, no lie, Dean had seen it at least fifty time with Jo and could probably quote large chunks of it from memory if someone were to ask him to. He thought about calling his sister when it got to the part where Noah does his whole love-confession on the rain and Allie just glomps onto him in the rain. They used to joke about how there was no way that Gosling and McAdams hadn't fallen over at least five times while trying to film that scene. It didn't use to make him sniffle and wipe angry at his eyes with the heel of his hand.

Dean almost called the younger woman because he really needed a friendly voice and there was less of a chance of Jo nagging him about Cas than any other person he knew right now. But then he remembered that his phone was in the other room, turned off, and if he turned it on again then he would surely have at least two really upset text message waiting for him. And nope, he didn't want to deal with that right now.

So he snuggled further into Dor's couch, tucked the remote under his thigh, and pulled the open jar of Nutella closer to himself. If he didn't feel like such shit already he probably would've opened up another bottle of Dor's wine, as it was he figured watching a marathon of rom-coms was the closest to turning his brain off that he could get. Lord knew he couldn't handle any more Nicholas fucking Sparks.

After _The Notebook,_ Dean struggled his way off of the couch and shuffled his way to the bathroom to take a piss, wearing Dor's afghan like a cape. He glanced into Dor's bedroom as he passed it on his way back to the couch and didn't immediately see his phone so the stubborn part of his brain wrote it off as lost forever and grabbed a glass of water out of the kitchen before turning on _She's the Man_ and zoning out again for another hour and a half.

He woke up halfway through _Clueless_ , his glasses pressing hard into the bridge of his nose because he has apparently face planted into Dor's throw pillows when he'd fallen asleep. Dean fumbled for remote before he had to be reminded of how perfectly Cas had mimicked Cher's valley girl voice when the other man had been curled up on top of him in his fucking armchair. Was that only two nights ago?

God, it felt like his heart was ripping out of his chest.

Dean struggled to catch his breath, as he mashed the buttons on the remote until the Netflix home screen was showing again. He flung the afghan away from himself because he felt like he had sweated through his clothes during his impromptu nap and he tried to ignore the taste of bile as it flooded his mouth.

He levered himself up off the couch, just in case the graham crackers were about to make a sudden reappearance and once the room felt a little less spinny, Dean chanced a glance towards the open doorway of Dor's bedroom. It wasn't until he was bending down to pick up the shorts that he had pried off of himself the night before, falling into the mattress in just his boxers and t-shirt, that Dean even realized that he had decided to hunt for his phone.

Once he did find it, shoved deep into the pocket of his rumpled shorts along with his keys and some loose change, Dean just hefted the weight of it in his hand. He didn't remember his phone feeling this heavy before, but now the ominous little black screened box felt exactly like a ton of bricks.

He didn't turn it on, just carried it with him back to the couch, set it carefully on the padded armrest beside him, and focused his attention back on Netflix. At least _this_ he could control.

Dean started up the next crappy teen rom-com that Netflix recommended to him, knowing that he was probably messing of Dor's queue that consisted of mostly home improvement shows and documentaries about musicians, but not giving even the most solitary of fucks. _Bring it On_ was entertaining enough because the choreography was sorta neat, but the mind-numbing factor was probably its most winning quality right at that moment.

Hooking the blanket that he had discarded with his foot, Dean dragged it back onto the couch with him so he could curl up in the corner of one of the cushions with it thrown over himself. Dean made it about two minutes into the movie before he realized that he was just staring at his cellphone instead of watching the television, so he sneered at the device and moved to the opposite end of the couch.

"Staring _me_ in the face," Dean mumbled, affronted by the fact that his phone seemed to have developed an attitude problem overnight and snatched up another graham cracker to comfort himself with.

Dean made it through ten more minutes of the movie and one and a half crackers before he pushed himself off of the couch in a huff because it felt like Kirsten Dunst was judging him for not turning on his phone and he just couldn't fucking take it anymore.

He cast about the room for a minute, turning his back on his cellphone as he tried to figure out what he could to do take his mind off of the text messages and voicemails he probably had waiting for him. Dean felt frazzled and twitchy, like he had too much energy even though he was tired as fuck and had a headache pounding at his temples. Normally he'd just play a video game or jerk off or something when he felt like this, but Dor didn't play video games and jerking off seemed like just asking for trouble at this point so there was really only one thing he could do.

Dean needed to clean something.

Taking his wrath out on the pile of dishes that Dor had stacked up helped, he cursed and grumbled at the caked on Pad Thai that his friend had left to evolve in her sink and it helped him feel a little better. Of course, Dor didn't have many dishes to wash because she either ate take out all the time or had dinner at her girlfriend's house. So he just decided to clean the whole kitchen while he was in there.

It wasn't until Dean was taking out the trash after having cleaned out all of the empty condiment bottles and moldy take out from Dor's fridge that Dean finally realized that he couldn't ignore Ca- his fucking phone any longer. And that's only 'cause the calvary decided to finally show up.

"You look like shit!" Charlie called from the passenger side of Dor's beat up Hyundai as it cruised into the parking lot, causing Dean to flinch and fumble with one of the overstuffed trash bags that he was carrying.

God, his head was pounding from the sunlight and Dean knew that if he looked half as horrible as he felt then Char probably had a point.

"What are you doing here?" Dean asked, readjusting his grip on the bags as the car slid into a nearby parking spot allowing Dor and Charlie to emerge from the car. Dor was still wearing the clothes he had seen her wearing at the bar last night, but she still looked about a billion times better than he did; sorta pissed, but not like lukewarm death.

"Well, _I_ live here," Dor bit out, stalking up to Dean and grabbing one of the bags of trash out of his hands before she continued past him towards the dumpster. Dean followed her carefully, glancing back at Charlie who just shook her head at him as she headed into Dor's apartment with a tote bag slung over her shoulder.

Growing up with his Mom and Jo, Dean had learned pretty quickly how to tell when one of the women in his life was mad at him and right now Dean was getting all sorts of 'Danger! Danger, Will Robinson' vibes from Dor who stood next to the dumpster watching him with her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

Of course he already knew what he was in trouble for, Dean wasn't an idiot. But he could play one on T.V.

Dean tipped the bag he was carrying into the dumpster and resisted the urge to flinch away from the other woman when Dor just pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at him.

"Rough night?" Dean asked, carefully avoiding Dorothy's gaze as he picked up the other bag that she had left at her feet when she had stopped and tossing it into the trash as well.

Dor eyed the tattered basketball shorts that Dean had dug out of the very back of Dorothy's dresser before he had gone outside with the trash, "It was actually pretty good until this morning, but I hear yours was a fucking shit show."

"My night was great," Dean said, avoiding Dor's gaze by turning decisively back towards the apartment. He was only halfway sure she was following him and even less sure that she wasn't about to dropkick him in the back and start yelling at him right there in the parking lot. "I drank some wine, watched some T.V…"

"Man, Smith," Dor groused threateningly, pushing past him so she could beat him up the stairs. "If you drank all my fucking wine, I swear to god…"

Dean hoped that the two bottles he _did_ drink wasn't enough to get him into even more trouble with the other woman.

"C'mon, baby! You know I _love_ Julia Stiles," Charlie complained as Dean caught up with Dor inside the apartment. "Just let me finish this and then we can go get dinner."

"Fine," Dor sighed, waving a dismissive hand at the television screen where the actress in question was walking through some non-descript high school hallway and looking the paradigm of late 90s teenage angst. "I've got to get ready for work anyway. Dean keep me company while I put my face on."

It wasn't phrased as a question so Dean just nodded and followed the other woman into the bathroom, taking a seat on the closed toilet lid and attempting to watch impassively as Dor pulled out her intimidatingly massive makeup case and proceeded to pull out about a million different brushes.

Dor remained ominously quiet as she tucked her hair back with a headband and started applying different squirts of this and that to her face. Dean could hear Charlie making noises back at the movie she was watching and he tried not to fidget under the oppressive silence that was settling between he and Dor.

He lasted about ten seconds and that was with him gnawing on his lip to keep himself from saying something. "I'll buy you some more wine, D."

The other woman let out a snort of laughter, managing to keep her face still even as she did so which was scary and impressive and Dean would never understand the power of girls.

"You know I don't give a shit about the wine, Dean," Dorothy sighed in reply, putting down the brush she was using and leaning in closer towards the mirror with a little frown on her face. She threw a meaningful glance over at Dean before picking up a pair of tweezers and going after something on her face that Dean couldn't even see. "And don't act like you don't know why I'm really upset either. Now you've convinced Charlie to stop butting into yours and Cas's shit, but nothing you say is going to keep me from saying my peace."

Dean thought about protesting for about a millisecond, but instead he just crossed his arms over his chest and directed his pout at the floor because he knew that it would have no effect on the other woman. Speaking from experience, Dean was well aware of the fact that once Dor had made her mind up about something that not much would stop her. Its why she was still paying nine hundred bucks a month for rent when she stayed most nights at Dean and Charlie and Sam's place and it's why she was about to tell him all the reasons she thought he was being self-destructive and stupid.

Well fuck her, he didn't have to listen.

That didn't mean that he didn't hear was Dor was saying, he did. It was a lot of "You're both acting childish blah blah." and "If you morons would just _talk_ to each other blorg blorg." Dean just let most of it bounce off his brain and back out into the tiny bathroom, but he managed to glean from the bits and pieces that did get absorbed into his grey matter that Dor had already heard Cas's version of events from last night and it sounded like she had taken the other man's side.

And didn't that just sting like a motherfucker.

Dean took the opportunity while Dor was still spouting off her two cents at him and winging the fuck out of her eyeliner to count up exactly how the division lines were being drawn. Cas obviously had gotten to Dor and probably Charlie too since the two women had most likely seen the punk while they were together. Sam would probably side with Gabe who of course would defend his baby brother for being an unrepentant horn dog who had a bad habit of leading people on.

And y'know what? Maybe this all really _was_ Dean's fault after all. He'd told himself that he wasn't going to be affected by Cas just being who he is and then Dean had gone and gotten all butthurt as soon as the punk had gone and done exactly what Dean had known all along he would do. Yea, Dean was pretty sure he sided with Cas too at this point.

Or maybe that was the crippling self-doubt talking.

Or the hangover…honestly it was probably just a mix of the two.

"So you'll come with me to the bar tonight, right?" Dor asked standing up straight from where she had leaned over the sink to fix her eye makeup. She used a red-painted fingernail to fix some imperfection that Dean couldn't even hope to see before turning and fixing her gaze directly on him.

"Yea, sure whatever," Dean muttered, uncrossing his arms so he could flex his fingers and wipe his sweaty palms on his stolen shorts. "I'll have to go by my house for some clothes first. At least another shirt, I think I spilt a bunch of wine on mine last night."

Real talk, Dean suspected that his shirt was more tear-stained than wine-stained, but he wasn't about to admit to that right now.

"We brought you some stuff," Dor said with a pleased smile tilting up the corners of her mouth. Dean figured that the other woman probably thought she had 'gotten through to him' or something. "Go check with Charlie, I've just gotta change and then we can grab something to eat."

"Yea, I'm pretty sure I almost finished off the only edible thing in this place," Dean commented, heading back towards the living room as Dor just hummed in reply at him and started poking around in her makeup box again.

Charlie was sitting on the couch, a rapturous expression on her face and the jar of Nutella held loosely in her hand as she watched Julia Stiles reading something off of a piece of paper on the screen. Dean sat down next to her with a huff, ignoring his cell phone that was still sat on the arm of the couch and reaching for the tote back that Charlie had carried in with her instead; he assumed that's where his clothes were.

" _I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme,"_ Julia said letting out a dramatic sigh that caused Charlie to reach out and grab Dean's hand before he could pick up the tote. She could get a little emotional about movies sometimes, so he just let her and resolved to get his hand back when she was ready to give it to him.

" _I hate it-I hate the way you're always right, I hate it when you lie,"_ Uh-oh, Julia's voice was breaking and Charlie was sniffling and Dean was not in the right emotional mindset to handle this shit right now, not today. _"I hate the way you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry."_

"I hate it when you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call. But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all."

Charlie tearfully said the last part along with the movie and Dean could hear Dor muttering under her breath _'every damn time',_ as the brunette headed into the bedroom to presumably change clothes.

Julia's dramatic exit on the screen was marred a little bit by the fact that Dean thought it was hard to have a serious moment while wearing flip flops, but Heath Ledger looked sufficiently affected and Charlie was outright bawling on the couch next to him. Dean definitely did not have tears clouding his eyes as he wrenched his hand away from his roommate and grabbed the tote bag from next to the coffee table, but he also made a point to not look into the mirror in the bathroom when he went in there to change so that no one could call him a liar about it later.

Char and Dor had brought Dean his 'hot-ass' jeans, a move that he was sure the two girls had carefully calculated while grabbing him a change of clothes, but they also brought him a pair of boxers and socks along with a green Ted Leo & the Pharmacists t-shirt. Dean put it all on except for the jeans because he figured he could spite the two girls by just wearing his shorts from the day before, but when he stepped out of the bathroom is was to see Charlie closing up the little closet that held the washer/dryer combo that came with Dor's apartment.

"Oh, hey I just put your other clothes in the washer," Charlie said brightly, all traces of her minor Julia Stiles induced meltdown completely gone from her face. "I also plugged your phone into my spare charger, figured it was dead and that's why none of us could reach you this morning."

"Uh, yea," Dean said narrowing his eyes at his roommate who was being just a little too genuine for him to suspect her of any ulterior motive. "Thanks."

"Dean!" Dor admonished as she emerged from her room tucking her hair up into a white bandana. The other woman was wearing a t-shirt that had a sloth on it and said 'Nap all day, Sleep all night, Party never' that she had cut the collar off of to make it fall off her shoulder and a pair of high-waisted shorts. "I'm starving, put your pants on and let's _go_ already!"

"You look cute as hell, babes," Charlie said slyly, sidling up to the other woman and wrapping her arms around her waist.

Dean turned around and stomped back into the bathroom when the kissing sounds started, not because it grossed him out to see the two women being affectionate or anything, but that creeping, toxic jealousy that he was becoming uncomfortably acquainted with chose that moment to rear its ugly head again and he didn't want them to see the sour look that he was fairly certain was on his face. And he also needed to shove himself into those tight as fuck pants because it was either that or put back on Dor's ratty basketball shorts.

When he stepped back out of the bathroom, the two women were no longer in the hallway and it made Dean think for a hopeful second that they had just left him there. But when he cautiously poked his head around the corner to look into the living room, there they were, the both of them tapping away on their phones and nudging each other in the ribs every so often before tilting their screens for the other to see.

Dean shuffled over to his shoes that were near the front door and shoved his feet into them before turning to face the two women who were still engrossed in their own little technological bubbles.

"I thought you guys were in a hurry?"" Dean asked, trying to keep the snark in his voice to a minimum because if Char and Dor really were hungry it wasn't going to do him any good to antagonize them more than he already had.

"Here's your wallet," Dor said, producing Dean's Ninja Turtle wallet from the back pocket of her shorts as she rose to her feet. "And don't forget your phone."

"Yea, it's probably got at least a bit of a charge by now," Charlie added, frowning down at her phone for a second before she popped up to her feet as well.

Dean cursed the redhead up and down in his head for a moment before forcing a thankful grin on his face and pocketing the device, not bothering to turn it on because that was exactly the way that he wanted it to stay.

"What do you guys think of Hut's?" Dor asked, gently herding the group towards the front door. "You like their shakes, right Dean?"

The thought of consuming anything kinda made him want to hurl, but...Hut's did have really fucking good milkshakes. And Dean had always been a fan of eating his feelings.

Hut's Hamburgers had the kind of old-school 50s era charm that had the habit of feeling like a gimmick in other restaurants that tried to replicate their natural ambiance.

They'd been one of the staples of Austin culture and 6th street since long before the stretch of road became more widely known for its nightlife and the lovingly signed celebrity photos and decades old newspaper clippings that hung framed on the wall attested to the fact that they would have a loyal customer base long after 6th street stopped being cool.

They also had really fucking good burgers and even better milkshakes. Dean had two of the latter before he had to excuse himself to the bathroom to puke his guts out.

He only felt slightly better afterwards.

But of course that feeling of 'better out than in' evaporated as soon as he got back to the table he was sharing with Dor and Charlie to find Gabe along with a cluster of strangers dragging another square table over to join up with theirs. His heart leapt in his throat as he frantically cataloged the backs of the three men who he didn't recognize before Dean realized that Cas's broad shoulders and messy bed head wasn't among Gabriel's party. He still approached the table cautiously because just 'cause he couldn't immediately see Cas it didn't mean that the punk wasn't lurking around somewhere and Dean really didn't think that he could handle seeing the other man right now when he had bags under his eyes and vomit breath.

"Hey! There he is," Charlie called, throwing her hands up in Dean's direction and causing Gabe and friends to turn to look at where he was standing and debating about the merits of bolting and walking down to BookPeople over suffering through this awkward hell.

His roommate effectively took that little debate out of his hands.

Dean tried to rearrange his face so it didn't look so obviously pained and started to make his way towards the group at his table. Unfortunately, as he got closer he realized a couple of things in quick succession that were sure to make this encounter even more awkward that he had previously thought.

Firstly, Gabriel (y'know Cas's not-so-big, not-so-intimidating older brother?) was pretty obviously pissed at him. 'Glaring daggers' was probably not violent enough to describe the way that Gabe was looking at him, but Dean had definitely called that one so at least he wasn't surprised. Secondly, one of the trio of strangers wasn't actually a stranger. It was Han, with her hair slicked back in a pseudo-pompadour and wearing a short-sleeve, black men's button down with cut off shorts that stopped just above her knee. Dean figured that he hadn't recognized the girl from the back because frankly she looked a bit like a dude, but his internal debate about whether or not her chest was flatter today than it had been yesterday kept him from focusing on the fact that he was pretty sure Han was wearing Cas's shirt.

All of that was awkward enough without the tense silence that greeted him as he walked up to the table, but luckily Charlie being her ever-bubbly self broke that by popping to her feet and doing a round of introductions. Apparently the two entirely unfamiliar guys were Mark and Trevor, Han's bandmates who were seemingly unaware of the underlying tension at the table as they shook Dean's hand and took their seats.

"And Han is-" Charlie started, gesturing at the other woman who was standing behind the chair that was sat across from Dean's empty seat.

"We've met," Han interrupted,offering Dean a hesitant smile that he didn't even try to return; just nodding at her instead before sitting back down in front of his half finished fries and milkshake. He heard her chair squeak as it was pulled out a long moment later, but busied himself by creating patterns in his ketchup with his french fries.

Once everyone was settled and the waitress had come by to goodnaturedly take her three-top-turned-seven-top's drink orders then the silence settled heavily over the group. Well everyone except Mark and Trevor who were having a hushed conversation about possibly skateboarding...Dean wasn't entirely sure, for all he knew a Jesus Flip was the name of one of the bands playing this weekend.

"Sooooo," Dor said, leaning back in her seat as she drew the word out and simultaneously settled her arm around Dean's shoulders. "What have you guys been up to today?"

"Gabe's just been showing us the sights," Han said, nudging the man in question who was sitting next to her and hadn't stopped scowling in Dean's direction. "His roommate made us breakfast this morning and then we went to that big bookstore on the corner a couple of blocks up, the one across from the record store? I dunno, we've just kinda been wandering around."

"Oh yea, Dean and I work there, at the bookstore," Charlie said congenially before taking a huge, messy bite out of her burger and continuing with her mouth full. "You like it here so far?"

"Its cool," Trevor answered, nodding at their waitress when she came back to take their orders and drop off drinks. "Everyone is really friendly."

"And a lot less of a dick than we expected," Mark added as he methodically began to mix sugar packets into his sweet tea which even Dean knew was kinda overkill.

"You'd be surprised by how many _dicks_ we have here," Gabriel bit out, viciously squeezing lemons into his ice water and amping up the voltage of his glare when Dean happened to glance at the other man.

"Going to see anyone play tonight?" Dor chimed in, her voice sounding calm and normal even though her grip had tightened protectively on Dean's bicep. Hadn't she just been mad at him? God, he was so confused and he sorta felt like puking again.

"Uh…" Han started carefully, her hand reaching up to fiddle with the longer locks of hair that she had pulled down in front of her ears to approximate sideburns. Dean looked up at her and noticed that she wasn't wearing any jewelry and not much makeup to speak of and he was still fairly baffled by the lack of bosom she was sporting today, but make it was just an optical illusion caused by her shirt. "I think we're going to Mohawk tonight, Sam said something last night about a secret show before we went to see the Popes, but uh...I don't know anymore."

"There someone playing you want to see more?" Dor asked and suddenly her voice sounded a little _too_ innocent or maybe Dean was just being paranoid because of Gabe's never ending death glare.

"Well we had a long night…" Han started reluctantly, trailing off when their waitress showed back up with food for the new additions to the table and checks for the original trio.

"Ya'll take your time," the waitress said, glancing towards the front door when the bell above it chimed and getting a startled look on her face when a veritable wave of people came through the door before rushing off without another word.

"Long night?" Dor prompted after a solid minute of letting the quartet dig into their food, Dean was pretty sure the other woman timed it so that Han had swallowed her mouthful right before she asked.

"Uh…" Han stalled, picking sesame seeds off of her burger bun with her thumbnail.

"What they're trying to say is that Cas kept us up all night frantically calling hospitals and shit for Mr. Tall Dork and Asswipe over here," Gabriel answered tersely, jutting his chin in Dean's direction as he finished before stabbing viciously at his Reuben sandwich with his fork.

"W-what?"Dean stammered, his french fry falling out of his fingers forgotten. "Cas didn't...he doesn't...care-"

"Oh fuck you, Dean," Gabe said, dropping any pretense of politeness and letting his utensils fall to the table with a clatter that made Han flinch in her seat beside him. "My brother was worried sick about you all goddamned night and you didn't even have the decency to tell him you were okay. So if anyone doesn't fucking care in this situation I would say that it's not him."

Dean tried to think of a rebuttal and utterly failed, too shocked by what he'd just learned to actually function or speak or y'know, breathe.

"Okay, we're gonna go," Charlie said, quickly climbing to her feet and rushing around to Dean's side of the table where she hauled him to his feet. "Settle up, babe?"

"Yea, I'll meet you outside," Dor replied, sounding frustrated and Dean suspected that it wasn't at him, but he was too busy trying to focus on the way that Charlie was soothingly rubbing his back to spare it too much thought.

They made it outside to the open air and Charlie propped Dean up against Hut's whitewashed exterior, gripping his shoulders tightly and encouraging him to breathe.

"Okay, just count your breaths, Dean," Charlie said, matching the pace of her own to what Dean needed to be doing. "This isn't your first rodeo, you know how to do this."

Dean huffed out a breathless chuckle at that before he continued to focus on what he needed to be doing even though his mind was going a million miles an hour.

It took a minute or so for Dor to emerge from the restaurant and by then Dean was taking shaky breaths at a more healthy tempo and Char's grip on him had relaxed enough that he could stand up straight and lean his head back against the building with his eyes closed. The sound of another voice speaking softly to Dor was the only warning he had that it wasn't just he and his two friends who had been followed out of the restaurant.

"Hey Dean," Dor asked softly, sidling up to press into his side; he cracked his eyes open to see an apologetic look on the other woman's face and Han hovering anxiously behind her. "Han wants to talk to you for a sec. Is that okay?"

"S'fine," Dean muttered, resigned to the fact that he was probably about to get chewed out for ditching Cas again. He wasn't entirely convinced now that he didn't deserve it.

"We'll be by the car," Dor said with a nod in the direction of her purpleish Hyundai, hooking her arm through Charlie's as she moved towards it.

Dean stared hard at his shoes for a long minute, waiting for the barrage of hate that probably about to rain down on him from Cas's childhood bestie only...it never came. And when Dean chanced a look at the other girl she was staring at her own scuffed shoes with her hands shoved deep in her pockets and a deep frown on her face.

"So…" Dean said cautiously, crossing his arms over his chest in order to protect himself just a bit. "Are you gonna yell at me too?"

"Nah," Han said, kicking at the ground with her toe before she grinned slyly up at Dean. "I think those Adler boys laid on the guilt thick enough, don't you?"

"Well, Gabriel sure did," Dean agreed, letting his shoulders relax just a bit because it seemed like Han might go easy on him which was really freaking weird but whatever.

"Wait," the girl replied, her hand coming out of her pocket to bring her thumbnail up to her mouth so she could gnaw on it. "So you haven't even listened to Cas's messages yet? Or like read his texts from last night or anything?"

Dean shook his head, mostly because he was pretty sure his voice wouldn't come out entirely as steady as he wanted it to be, but this apparently was not the answer that Han had wanted to hear because the girl stomped her foot in frustration; putting a little spin on the motion so that she ended up waaaay in Dean's personal bubble.

"Okay, so I came out here to talk to you about me and Cas because I know that you know that he and I have a complicated history," Han blurted, waving her hands too close to Dean's face for his comfort as she spoke. "But that shit is way too meta for me to explain in five minutes so just trust me when I say that Cas is careful about who he lets in and you're more _in,_ Dean than almost any other person I've ever seen him with."

"So you want me to…" Dean started, trying to appease the girl in front of him who seemed semi-frantic.

" _I_ don't want you to do anything," Han said, taking a step back and closing her eyes before letting out a heavy, slow breath. After a moment where she seemed to center herself she continued."In fact, my advice is that you never do anything you don't one thousand percent want to do. But at least have all the facts before you go making a decision about Cas. You should consider hearing his side of the story."

"I know what I saw last night," Dean objected, wishing he could just trust the other man the way that Charlie trusted Dor not to stray. That was like some fundamental relationship shit and he and Cas couldn't even get that right. "I can't even turn my back for five seconds without him being all over someone else and maybe Cas's other girlfriends or boyfriends or whatever were cool with that, but I'm not a secure enough person to be that way."

"What?" Han asked, waving a hand in front of her face like she was trying to clear away an annoying fly. "Dean, I _saw_ Cas last night. I helped him look for you after you disappeared and he wasn't with anyone but me and Meg and Balthazar all night."

"Well you must not have seen that other guy," Dean said, feeling a little bit of relief that Cas probably hadn't had time to get a blow job in the bathroom before noticing that Dean had bolted. Unless it had been a really quick one.

"I don't know what 'other guy' you could possibly be talking about," Han said, putting both of her hands behind her head in frustration. "Cas said he left you at the stage, saw Meg at the bar and then I ran into him and showed him my belt buckle on his way back to you. When we got back to where you were, you were gone. I just don't see how there could've been another guy."

"There was a guy," Dean argued, because he felt like he was going crazy over all of this. What if he had made up stuff because he was so insecure that he couldn't handle someone like Cas showing an interest in him? "A fucking guy in a fedora-hat- _thing_ and like, a vest and shit and Cas was all the fuck over him. I swear."

"Oh my god," Han said, bringing her hands around to first cover her mouth and then up to cover her eyes as she let out a pained groan. "Ugh fucking cock shit damnit balls! God, a guy, Dean? A guy in a white t-shirt and vest with a fucking hat? And like skinny jeans?"

"Yes!" Dean said relieved because he had seriously been questioning his sanity for a second there. " _That_ guy!"

"That was me!" Han yelled, flinging her arms out at her side. "I changed clothes before the show because I having some," Han waved her hands over her body in a vague kinda way. "Y'know, dysphoria and I was feeling masc and oh my god it must have looked so bad from the outside if you thought Cas was gonna just blow you off to fuck me."

Han ended her tirade with her hands covering her mouth again and her eyes looking ominously glassy.

"No, it couldn't have been you," Dean protested, putting out his hands to pet awkwardly at Han's arms. "You're a girl, Han."

Han's face went through a complicated series of expressions before it finally settled on one that looked equal parts pitying and motherly; it was a weird combination.

"I'm fluid, Dean," Han said, taking a deep breath when he just frowned back at her in confusion. "I'm genderfluid, it means I don't label myself as any one gender in particular; either male or female."

"But you were dressed like a girl yesterday?" Dean asked, feeling lost for more reasons than one.

How much other stuff was he missing because he just relied on his admittedly narrow view of things? God, growing up in South Dakota had not prepared him for the real world at all.

"Some days I feel feminine so I do my makeup and wear cute dresses because it makes me feel good," Han explained slowly. "Other days I feel masculine and I put on my binder and dress in jeans and a t-shirt because that makes me feel good too. Yesterday, I started fem and then ended up masc. Some days are a mix between the two, like today."

"So are you like...trans or god, sorry..." Dean started, trying to phrase it so he wasn't being offensive as he frantically tried to remember all the things that Dor had explained about being bi or pan or ace.

"I don't care if you ask questions, Dean," Han said, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You can just think of me as fluid or queer, I'm good with both of those. But I prefer they and them pronouns over he or she."

"I'll probably mess that up," Dean admitted softly, his mind whirring with all of the information he had learned over the last ten minutes. "So that really was you last night?"

"I make a pretty hot dude, huh?" Han teased, moving to post themselves up against the wall of the restaurant next Dean. "But yea, it was me."

Dean nodded before closing his eyes and forcing out the other question that was plaguing his mind, "And were you and Cas like... _really_ serious when you were together?"

"Dude," Han replied with a snort. "I would never describe me and Cas as either 'serious' or 'together'. He's pretty much my best friend and we helped each other through some shitty teenage years. But you have nothing to worry about from me, I go for more of the strong, silent type anyway and Cas is basically my brother so that'd be gross."

"God, I really fucked things up, didn't I?"

"Nah," Han said flippantly, nudging their shoulder against Dean's. "Just do yourself a favor and at least talk to him. I'm gonna go before my food gets cold, you okay?"

"Yea, Han," Dean replied, cracking his eye at the other person to see them giving him a fond smile. "Maybe I'll see you at Mohawk later?"

"I'll buy you a beer," Han said making little finger pistol motions and winking at Dean before heading back towards Hut's front door.

Dean allowed himself a few more seconds to wallow in his own stupidity before pushing himself away from the building and heading towards where Dor and Charlie were waiting for him in the car.

* * *

Cas: Where'd u go? _[11:12pm]_

Cas: R u in the john? _[11:14pm]_

Cas: This kid keeps giving me dirty looks, wth. _[11:15pm]_

Cas: Ur missing my fav song, babe. _[11:20pm]_

Cas: Dean, where are you? _[11:23pm]_

Cas: I'm gonna look for you, laugh at me for being paranoid later. _[11:25pm]_

' _You have nineteen new messages, to listen to your messages press one.'_

_'First unheard message at 11:27pm'_

"Hey so maybe I'm freaking out over nothing, but if you get this just call me, Dean. Its Cas...so yea...bye."

_'Next unheard message at 11:31pm'_

"Hey, its Cas again. I guess maybe we're just missing each other in the crowd or something, but if you get this meet me at the bar. Or just call me back, yea."

_'Next unheard message at 11:37pm'_

"Hey, it's me again. I can't find you like anywhere, dude. But if your phone's not dead just shoot me a text, okay? I'm getting really worried."

_'Next unheard message at 11:39pm'_

"Dean-o, its Meg! Listen, I know I don't like you, but Cas is freaking out so stop being a little bitch and call him back. I don't want to waste my night looking for your yuppie ass. Fuck."

_'Next unheard message at 11:50pm'_

"So the band just finished, maybe you couldn't hear your phone, but yea, call me back. I just wanna know that you're okay."

_'Next unheard message at 12: 02am'_

"Dean, this place is clearing out and I can't find you. Are you okay? I'm really losing my shit here and I need you to call me. Fuck, I'm gonna go check by the car. If you see Han or Balthazar stay with them. They'll text me. Just...be okay."

_'Next unheard message at 12:07am'_

"The car's gone, fuck. *audible panting* Fuck, did you leave? I'm not mad if you ditched me, but shit, man. Just call me back, please. Please call me back."

_'Next unheard message at 12:10am'_

"Okay, I know I sound crazy and you probably just got cruised or something, but Meg said maybe you got kidnapped and I just flipping out here, Dean. I can't find you and I'm so fucking worried and what if...what if I never see you again? God, if you get this just call or if you're busy text me. Fuck, have your hookup call me, I don't fucking care. Just let me know you're okay, 'kay?"

_'Next unheard message at 12:28am'_

"Hey, we just went by your house and you're not there either and- *car-horn honking* Fuck, people are driving like assholes I hope you're okay. Just...wherever you are, call me when you get the chance. I just wanna know you're safe. Or I'll meet up with you somewhere, it's whatever. Whenever you get this call me, I'll be awake, just please call me, Dean."

' _Next unheard message at 1:17am'_

"Fuck, Dean. Please be okay. God, please just be okay. I'm going out of my mind, just call me please."

Dean turned on his phone when they got to Red7, he and Charlie taking seats at one of the booths inside while Dor clocked in and started helping the other bartenders stock the outdoor bar for the big showcase that was playing that night. And he let it sit on the chipped formica table top as it buzzed and buzzed and _buzzed_. His roommate had the good grace to only raise her eyebrows at Dean before getting caught up in her own phone as they waited for the device to stop twitching with notifications.

* * *

He started with the text messages, mostly because there were more of those.

A vast majority of them were from Cas, which he had expected. But Dean hadn't expected the way his stomach would sink as he saw how the other man became progressively more and more frantic sounding with each message. There were a couple of texts from Gabe and weirdly enough Meg and even one from Sam saying that the punk was still trying to reach Dean long after the bars had closed and Sam had left work himself. The last text was from Dor, saying that Dean better still be at her place or else and it had been sent about an hour before she had gotten home.

He took a break before he started in on the voicemails, putting his head down on the table with a groan as he tried to fight down the shame and self-hatred he had for how fucking stupid he had been the night before.

"You look like you could use a drink," Dor's voice said, accompanied by a bottle of Shiner being set down on the table near Dean's head. "And you...well, I just wanted to buy a pretty lady a drink."

Dean lifted his head to see Dor sliding into Charlie's side of the booth with a self-satisfied smile on her face.

"You didn't pay for this," Charlie said coyly, taking the offered glass of dark liquid from her girlfriend and taking a sip of it.

"Semantics," Dor said with a shrug, accepting the kiss on the cheek that Charlie gave her before reaching out to nudge Dean's cell phone with her fingertips. "Finally turn on your phone?"

"Yea," Dean croaked out, snagging his beer and taking a long pull of it while the two women just watched him expectantly.

"And?" Charlie asked when Dean lowered his beer, but didn't offer any more information expect for a deep sigh.

"And it uh...feels like I've been punched in the throat," Dean said seriously, nodding because yea, that's exactly what all of this fucking felt like.

"Did you listen to your voicemails too?" Dor asked, angling her head so she could take a sip of Charlie's drink.

"Not yet," the redhead answered before Dean could find his voice.

"Oh, dude," Dor said, wincing in sympathy. "I'm pretty sure it's going to feel like you've been punched in the balls, repeatedly, after you listen to those. You might want to give him some space, babe."

"I'm here for moral support," Charlie protested, putting her hand protectively on Dean's arm.

"Actually, I probably need to do this on my own, Chaz," Dean said reluctantly, weighing Dor's words against his current emotional state and coming to the conclusion that he would probably start crying the second he heard Cas's voice.

"You sure?" his roommate asked uncertainly.

"Nope," Dean said, reaching for his beer so he could distract himself with picking at the label. "But I dug myself into this hole, right? I might take a walk or something while I do listen to 'em though, just let me finish my drink first."

Dor leveled Dean with an assessing, wary look. "Okay, well, whatever Cas said on those voicemails, just don't run off again."

"Yea, he wasn't the only one worried about you this morning," Charlie added, waiting for Dean to promise that he would come back before sliding out of the booth after Dor and following the other woman up to the bar.

Once they were gone, Dean debated about trying to make his beer last as long as humanly possible so that he could avoid the voicemail icon that was mocking him from the screen of his phone. But in a sudden, uncharacteristic bout of bravery he just chugged what was left of his drink in three long pulls before taking his phone with him and leaving the bar.

He walked aimlessly, following the ebb and flow of the festival crowd away as it made its way inevitably towards 6th street. It wasn't until he found himself huddled under the awning of Alamo Drafthouse's Ritz location that Dean finally stopped and finally started listening to his messages.

And of course, Dor was right.

Each message where he had to listen to Cas's voice get increasingly more worried and broken was like a knife sliding between his ribs, jabbing into his lungs and heart and kidneys until by the time he got to the last message waiting for him he was sitting on the ground in front of the movie theater with his knees pulled up to his chest and his free hand buried in his hair. He thought that he might be crying too, but he wasn't sure because all he could feel was his chest constricting painfully as he fought to catch his breath. The girl in the ticket booth was giving him some very concerned looks though, so Dean knew he couldn't be painting the prettiest picture right now.

_'Next unheard message at 10:47am.'_

"Hey, so I just went by your place again and Dor said you're okay. I guess… you just needed some space, which is fine. Totally fine, but uh… call me still, so I can like, hear your voice. I don't think I'll believe that you're alive until I do. Whatever I did that made you leave, I'm sorry. Just call me… please."

_'To erase this message press seven. To save this message press ni-'_

Dean let the hand that was holding his phone fall down to rest on the pavement beside him, clenching his eyes shut and trying to force back the sob that was attempting to tear its way out of his throat. God, he did _not_ need to have a complete breakdown right now. Especially since there was no one here to scrape him up and take him home. Plus everyone who would scrape him up was probably not feeling very sympathetic towards him right now. Hell, Dean didn't even have any sympathy left for himself; he really fucking deserved to feel like shit right now.

He managed to drag himself to his feet after a few more minutes, shoving his phone back into his pocket before attempting to wipe the tears off of his cheeks as surreptitiously as possible though he wasn't sure that he fooled the Drafthouse ticket girl because she just gave him a compassionate half-smile when he glanced her way.

Dean sniffled his way back towards Red7, debating about whether or not it was too late for him to call Cas and try to explain his fucked up, jealous, self-hating sabotaging to the other man or if that would just sound like more baggage that the punk would now want nothing to do with. He figured either way, he needed at least one or two more beers before he was capable of making that decision.

There were dudes in the familiar Red7 staff shirts unloading equipment from several vans and trailers and went he back inside behind the bits and pieces of a drum kit that were being carted towards the outdoor stage it was to see the indoor bar steadily filling up for people like a normal punk rock karaoke night. Benny was fiddling with the soundboard for Krissy who was tuning her guitar and a girl that Dean vaguely recognized from having seen her manning the venue's door once or twice was holding her own against a skinny dude with gigantic liberty spikes at the sign-up table. Dor and Charlie were nowhere to be seen, so Dean did the math and headed through the bar towards the outdoor stage.

Red7's outdoor bar was little more than a glorified slab of concrete with a covered, raised stage at one end and the most basic of bars at the other end. The 'roof' above the stage extended out for about ten or fifteen feet with Christmas lights strung up between the rafters and and peeling stickers lining the beams that supported it. The rest was open air, save for the area directly above the bar that was shielded from the elements by corrugated tin and heavy duty plastic sheeting. Dor had always said that the DIY aesthetic was what gave Red7 its charm and based on the way the space was already milling with chattering music enthusiasts, others apparently felt the same.

Dean spotted Charlie propped up at the end of the bar talking to one of the other bartenders, Ash, who tended to work outside because he fast, even-tempered, and unafraid of jumping into a melee of concert goers to break up a fight. They were probably talking about computers because both his roommate and the other man had serious expressions on their faces; Dean suspected that Ash was into some probably illegal, deep web hacker shit like Charlie, but he had never had the gotten more than two words out of the other man so it was as of yet unconfirmed. Dor meanwhile was popping caps off of beer bottles for the modest stream of patrons who were watching the band set up.

He shuffled his way over to his friends, ducking out of the way of guys in spike covered denim vests and girls in heavy combat boots with little more than mumbled apologies. Every single last one of him reminded him in some way of Cas, either of the night they first met or yesterday at Trailer Space or just… something and in turn it made the regret and guilt he was already feeling gouge its way deeper into his conscience.

One drink, just for some courage, and then he'd give Cas a call.

Dean had no idea what he'd say during the call outside of an apology and he was one million percent sure that an apology alone wouldn't be enough to fix things with the other man. If it could be fixed, if Cas even wanted it fixed.

"Hey, dude," Ash greeted with a jut of his chin as Dean draped himself across the bar at Charlie's side with a wounded noise. "What happened to him?"

"He's having some boy trouble," Charlie explained, rubbing Dean's back consolingly.

"Well there's only one cure for that!" Ash exclaimed causing Dean to look up from his wallowing to see the other man grabbing a bottle of tequilla off of the shelves behind the bar. "You want in on this, Dor?"

The other woman looked up from where she was scribbling on one the open tabs near the cash register and her eyes lighted on the bottle in Ash's hand. Dor cast a glance back at the milling showgoers before shrugging and snagging some limes and plastic cups on her way towards them.

"What are we celebrating?" Dor asked, eyeing Dean warily as she approached and started lining up glasses for Ash.

"Nothing," Dean croaked, not missing the way that Charlie winced in sympathy or how Dorothy's practiced movements faltered. "Can we just drink, please?

"Yea, man," Ash said, doling out the shots to everyone and then offering around a salt shaker shaped like a weeping clown to everyone. "Bottom's up."

The liquor burned hot and bright on the way down, hitting him in the stomach like a suckerpunch and making Dean's already red-rimmed eyes water. He coughed slightly after swallowing, making Ash bark out a laugh before slapping him heartily on the shoulder and meandering off to help the customers who has posted themselves at the bar in the last couple of minutes.

Could he call Cas now?

The thought alone made his stomach roil so Dean just reached for the bottle that Ash had left sitting on the bartop and raised his eyebrow

"Another?" Dean asked, wiggling the bottle slightly in his two friends' direction.

"I've gotta get to work, Dean," Dor replied with a shake of her head, gathering up the extra cups and tossing them in the trash. "Did you talk to Cas?"

Dean just replied with a shake of his head, pouring another shot for himself and Charlie before offering the bottle back to Dor.

"Keep it," she sighed, glancing in Ash's direction when he called her name and gestured towards where the bar's backdoor had just been opened by the bouncers to let in a new stream of people. "And don't get so drunk that you can't at least text Cas back, okay?"

"I'll keep an eye on him," Charlie said, picking up her cup and clacking it against Dean's "And we'll be good, right, Dean?"

"Yea...good," Dean replied bitterly, grimacing at his cup before he downed his second shot.

He started losing track of time a little bit after that one, his hand straying repeatedly to reach for his phone only for him to chicken out at the last second and moving to line up another shot for he and his roommate instead. Charlie took control of the bottle after their fifth… or maybe it was sixth shot, refusing to give Dean another until he drank a glass of water provided to him by Ash.

At some point during all of that the first band of the showcase had finished setting up, done a sound check, and presumably introduced themselves; Dean just didn't notice them until they started playing.

' _I'm always tired. I'm always at least half asleep. Blemish and state how, I don't feel great now.'_

"These guys are really fucking depressing," Dean mumbled out, sipping at his unwanted water and wondering idly if the back patio at Red7 had always been tilted at such a steep angle. "I kinda love it."

"Yea, you would," Charlie said hooking her chin over his shoulder so she could see the band. "Wanna move closer?"

Dean eyed the crowd that was still filling out as the band continued playing, they looked tame enough so he figured he could handle getting closer without getting knocked over or accidentally hit. So he said at much to the other girl.

"Don't worry," Charlie said, steadying Dean when they started making their way into the mass of people and the other man stumbled over nothing. "I'll protect you."

He just nodded and allowed his arm to have Charlie's hooked through it so she could drag him through the audience until they reached one of the beams that supported the roof over the stage. It was the worst kind of humid being amid the crush of strange bodies, but the heat helped clear Dean's head a bit as he leaned heavily against the beam and pulled the bottom of his shirt up to wipe at the sweat on his forehead.

There were a few hungry eyes turned Dean's way when he straightened his clothes and it made Dean's fingers twitch toward the phone in his pocket.

After this band though, he'd call Cas once this band was done.

To settle his nerves, Dean just slung his arm around Charlie's shoulders and ignored her questioning look when a flowery-scented wave of perspiration engulfed them. Hey, they hadn't brought him deodorant, so Dor really had no one else to blame but herself for him using the extra stick she'd had in her bathroom cabinet.

The whole set was great and Dean wondered why he hadn't picked to come to this showcase over another that he had found playing at Jackalope, but then again he'd been distracted with thoughts of Cas while he was making the schedule of what shows they should go to so maybe he'd just missed their name. Which they said again about halfway through their set; Joyce Manor. He'd have to try to remember that because their lo-fi, pseudo-emo sound was exactly what he looked for in a band.

Maybe he'd tell Cas about them when he called the punk, sorta as an icebreaker before making an apology.

"So this is our last song," the least singer of the band gasped into the mic as he ran a hand through his sweat slick hair before wiping it on his black jeans. "But we've heard you like this one, so sing along."

There was a big lead in with guitars and drums and the swell of bodies in front of the stage sorta lurched forward suddenly, pushing Charlie out from under Dean's arm into the swaying sea of bodies all trying to get closer. She didn't seem to mind because she just shrugged at Dean and turned back to the stage, he could still see her so he just wrapped an arm around the support beam at his side and tuned back into the song being played on stage.

' _I could hear you coming so I hid by the couch, you were talking so loudly I didn't know what about. But you were drunker than high school, self-conscious and sweet. I never ever felt so cool disguised in your sheets.'_

And then the chorus crashed in and everyone around him was singing along, but Dean didn't know the words and the effect of it all coupled with the alcohol and everything going on with Cas suddenly made Dean feel so fucking lonely that tears sprang to his eyes.

The second verse settled along with the crowd and Dean fought to push down the swell of emotion that was threatening to tear him down. It wasn't until everything but the kick drum and the singer's voice faded out that Dean was even able to focus back in on the song.

' _You having sex in the morning, your love was foreign to me. It made me think maybe human's not such a bad thing to be, but I just laid there in protest. Entirely fucked. It's such a stubborn reminder one perfect night's not enough.'_

God, he needed to call Cas. He needed to call Cas back right the fuck now and grovel for forgiveness.

Dean managed to push his way out of the back door of Red7 by the time the band had finished playing their last song. He could distantly hear the crowd cheering and clapping and the band thanking them, but all he could worry about was trying to get his phone out of his pocket and pulling up Cas's number with shaking fingers.

He'd just gotten the device pressed up against his ear and found a good bit of wall to lean on that didn't have any suspicious looking puddles around it when Dean heard his name being called.

He also heard a phone going off at right about the same time his own started ringing through to Cas in his ear. Dean shut his eyes against the fact that his life was becoming one of those shitty rom-coms he had been watching earlier. At least… with any luck it'd have the 'rom' part too.

"Are you seriously fucking calling me _now_?" Cas's voice asked sullenly.

Dean licked his lips as his phone continued to ring in his ear. "Are you going to answer it?"

He didn't open his eyes because he didn't want to see the other man's expression since he figured Cas was pissed as hell. But the other man didn't say anything in reply and the ringtone in Dean's ear clicked over to the little automated voicemail voice and yea, it didn't look like he was going to get out of this by being cute. Thanks for nothing Kirsten Dunst.

Dean opened his eyes, but kept them downcast, seeing only the tips of Cas's dirty Converse standing about two feet in front of him as he pocketed his phone again. He didn't know where to start with saying he was sorry so the silence stretched between them for a long moment.

"Well at least you're not dead," Cas finally said, causing Dean to look up at the other man for a split second before he dropped his eyes again.

It was long enough to see that the other man looked just as bad as Dean felt, if not worse. Cas's hair was even more disheveled than usual and he was sporting dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes along with at least another day's worth of overgrown stubble that was definitely edging into beard territory.

"Was that a legitimate concern?" Dean asked when it didn't look like the other man was going to say anything else.

The punk let out a derisive laugh that made Dean wince, "God, you have no fucking idea, do you?"

Dean didn't know how to answer that.

"Of course you don't," Cas answered himself, letting out a sigh that sounded like it came all the way from his bones and taking a step forward into Dean's space. "I was just… you disappeared. And I was just really fucking worried, all night."

"I know," Dean said softly, crossing his arms over his chest before he finally looked the other man in the eye. "Dor, Han, Gabe, they all told me you were worried."

"Then why didn't you call me back?" the punk asked, his voice taking on a desperate edge as he started to reach for Dean before letting his hand drop into the empty space between them. "Did you- Were you busy?"

"Busy feeling sorry for myself," Dean muttered, not missing the confusion that flickered across the other man's face. "I just… I thought I saw something that I didn't actually see and I freaked and left. I'm really sorry I didn't call you back, Cas. I swear, I didn't know you would worry about me so much."

"What the fuck?" Castiel asked, waving his hands to cut Dean off when he started to open his mouth. "No, I literally told you yesterday that I care about you, Dean. So why the hell wouldn't I worry about you if you up and disappear?"

His heart sunk at the other man's tone. "I don't know, Cas. I mean, I know you said you care about me, but then I saw- well, I thought I saw you all over some other guy who I now know was Han and I was hurt so I ran away. I'm good at that."

"No kidding," the punk bit out.

"But I really am so fucking ridiculously sorry that I worried you," Dean rushed to add, putting both of his hands out in an appeasing sort of way.

Cas regarded him seriously for a long minute before letting out a long sigh and shoving a hand through his messy hair. "So let me get this straight. You, ran away. Because you thought I was cruising some other dude and then you just let me keeping calling you, like a moron, until your phone died."

"No, I turned my phone off," Dean admitted sheepishly, causing the punk to pinch the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. "And you aren't a moron, I'm a moron."

"I'm not saying that," Cas sighed, moving forward to lean against the wall next to Dean with his body angled towards the other man's so they had some facsimile of privacy. "Where did you even go?"

"I went to Dor's apartment," Dean explained, biting his lip before he forced out the next part, but Cas needed to know how deeply his misunderstanding had affected him; even if the point was moot now. "I drank a bunch of wine and cried about you all night. I just… it hurt thinking you could just brush me off so easily. I mean… I know we're just friends, but… I don't know what I thought."

Both men were quiet after Dean's not-quite admission and he held his breath as it vibrated in the air between them. He took the time to study Cas as the punk pulled out a pack of cigarettes and fiddled with it, not pulling one out or anything, just kinda flipping it around in his hand.

He was wearing that Alkaline Trio shirt again, the one from the first time they had spoken at BookPeople, and it was wrinkled like he had fallen asleep in it. Cas's jeans also had a gigantic hole in the knee that went halfway up his thigh, revealing the bottom of the tattoo that Dean knew was there when the other man shifted his weight from foot to foot and cleared his throat.

"I uh… I walked to your house this morning," Cas admitted softly. "At like… nine or something, just to see if you had shown back up."

Dean made a noise to let the other man know he was listening and watched Cas finally pull out a cigarette and light it, taking a deep drag before continuing.

"And I was like… standing at your door," Cas continued, blowing a thick stream of smoke out of his nose before as he tongued at his lip ring. "Just looking at your car and shit and wondering if you had brought your trick home with you. I mean, I went by your house last night, you know that, but what if we had just missed each other? You brought me to your place that one time so it wasn't li-"

"I wouldn't do that," Dean interrupted, earning a half-hearted shrug from the other man. "No, really. I wouldn't ditch you for some random guy, Cas."

"You thought I did it to you," the other man protested softly.

"Yea and we've established that I'm a moron," Dean argued, moving so that he and Cas were facing each other; their chests no more than a hand's breadth apart with cigarette smoke hanging hazily in the air between them. "But really, as long as you're around, there might as well not be any other guys."

Cas's mouth quirked up at the corner for a second before he brought his cigarette back to his lips, the end of it glowing bright in the settling twilight. It was quiet save for the music thumping through the painted concrete cinder blocks they were leaning against and the muted chattering of people passing by at the end of the alley.

"You know it's the same for me, right?" Cas replied, turning his head slightly to blow out his lungful of smoke in another direction, but coming right back to steadily meet Dean's gaze as soon as he was finished. "Like… there's no one else when you're around. Or even when you're not around."

"Really?" Dean asked, his breath catching with hope.

The punk nodded, his mouth quirking again as he reached out with his free hand to pull Dean's head towards his own until their foreheads gently plunked together.

"So what do we do now?" Dean asked after a couple of minutes of he and Cas just breathing in each other, the other man's hand a steady, comforting weight on the back of his neck.

"Well," Cas started, wetting his lips with a quick swipe of his tongue before darting a glance down at Dean's. "I guess we should go watch this fucking band play, huh?"

Dean was still laughing when Cas flicked his cigarette away into the alley and started tugging him towards the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! 
> 
> I know its been forever since I've updated (or not, depending on how recently you started reading this fic), but life's been crazy. That job I was so stressed out about? Yea, I got fired from that so now I'm stressing over entirely new things like money and groceries and shit. But! I did just find out that I got into grad school and have enough financial aid to cover it so that's good. #morethanyouwantedtoknow
> 
> Anyway! Comment and let me know what you thought, hmu on tumblr @deathsteel, and keep a look out on there for the playlist that goes with this fic because I'll be updating that soon. 
> 
> I'm also writing a Ru Paul Drag Race AU fic for my friend's birthday so that will be posted once it is finished. So look out for that too hunnty!


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